Shadow Angel
by Suite Sambo
Summary: Auror Potter is between assignments.  Returning to England, he takes a gamble, accepts a temp job teaching at Hogwarts and is recruited for the Alumni Quidditch Tournament.  Watch out for Weasleys, romance and lots of little Harrys.  Mostly AU after OOTP.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur and Molly Weasley had lived in Ottery St. Catchpole, in a sprawling house affectionately called "The Burrow," for 40 years. The Burrow had begun life as a four room cottage but had grown with time, held together will magic and spellotape, as the years went by and the children came. Children were still apt to be found underfoot, racing through the house or out playing Quidditch on well-worn brooms in the back clearing. Grandchildren now, as all seven Weasley children were grown and gone, or simply gone.

Visitors saw their pictures everywhere—magical, wizarding pictures that smiled and waved and sometimes left the frames altogether to visit other magical pictures nearby. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny stood together in one picture, arranged oldest to youngest. All seven had flaming red hair and freckles. Bill, in his first year out of school and in training for his new job in Egypt, was already starting to grow his hair long.

All of the boys had married, except for Percy, who had died young, not yet out of his teens. He looked stern and proud in his horn-rimmed glasses and black robes in the small photo that sat by itself on the right side of the hearth shelf. Molly dusted the photo every week and carefully replaced it, always saying as she did so "There, now, Percy. You never did much like to get dirty now, did you?"

Bill had married first, in the heat of the Second War. He gave up a career overseas to take a Ministry job and built a new cottage only a few miles away from the Burrow to share with his French wife, Fleur. The twins, Fred and George, joint proprietors of "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," had surprised everyone by falling in love with a pair of sisters who ran a restaurant in Diagon Alley. They married in a double wedding and lived in the rooms above the two stores. Ron, the youngest of the boys, had married only a year and a half out of school. He chose his best friend, Hermione, as his bride and they bought a cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole. Ron worked at Gringott's Wizarding Bank as head of local security at the Diagon Alley location. Charlie, only two years younger than Bill, had been the last to marry. He was still a newlywed and lived in the wizarding village of Hogsmeade, close to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he taught Care of Magical Creatures.

Ginny, the first girl born in the Weasley family in six generations, was featured in more pictures than anyone else, with the possible exception of Marie, the first grandchild. Ginny was almost 30 and enjoyed an artist's life as a photographer. She had been living in Paris for more than five years now, and was sorely missed around the Burrow.

But there was someone else who called the Weasleys family and called the Burrow "home." That someone was Harry Potter, as unlike the Weasleys in temperament and appearance as possible. He'd stumbled into their lives when he was only eleven years old—twenty years ago—and his story had become so entangled with theirs that it was no longer possible to separate it out, and no one even bothered to try. Harry was Ron and Hermione's other best friend. He had helped Fred and George launch their very successful business. He had saved Ginny and Bill's lives. He had risked his life to try to save Percy's. He had his own room at the Burrow, created from attic space once the ghoul was finally ousted. And four of the grandchildren were named after him, which made things quite confusing during family gatherings.

In a highly improbable turn of events, four Weasley wives were pregnant at the same time, all due to give birth within weeks of each other. Ron and Hermione's baby was due first, and they made it known that if the baby were a boy, it would be called Harry Arthur. The twins, however, had vowed long ago, when Harry donated 1000 galleons to them to launch their joke shop, that they would name their own first-born sons after him. And Fleur, never forgetting that Harry had saved her little sister during the Tri-Wizard tournament when Harry was 14, also vowed to honor Harry with a namesake.

It was generally hoped and assumed that the first couple to produce a boy would have their Harry, and everyone else would choose a different name.

Hermione and Ron won the prize with baby Harry Arthur, born on June 20th. The baby had carrot red hair and a smattering of freckles. The family was home together only three days when Fleur and Bill's baby arrived, joining big sister Marie. Fleur threw logic and tradition to the wind and came home with baby Harry William, who also sported a shock of red hair. At this point, Molly prayed for girls, though deep inside she knew that the outcome was inevitable. Two weeks later, Fred and Diane welcomed Harry Percival (another redhead) while George and Daphne waited 'til the next day to introduce their own Harry Lionel. This last Harry was quite bald, though in time, his hair too would grow in red.

The Harrys had just turned 11, so everyone had grown accustomed to the confusion, and the boys had long ago learned to respond to their middle names. They kept their godfather (Harry) quite busy, for when they turned seven he was commissioned to teach them to play Quidditch and turn them into the best Gryffindor Quidditch team this century. In the back of his head he sometimes wondered what would happen if they all weren't sorted into Gryffindor and ended up competing against each other on the school pitch instead of flying together on one well-choreographed team.

Besides Marie and the four Harrys, eight more children had joined the fold over the years. George had had a Fred, and Fred had countered with a George. Bill and Fleur added a pair of blonde twins named Audrey and Estelle and Ron and Hermione had produced Jane, Neville, Molly and Will.

The house was happiest when it was full, and the people who visited were happiest when they were there. The house had a way with people. It made you feel warm and welcome. It had mirrors that told you to tuck your shirt in and gnomes in the garden and a wonderful magical clock with 28 hands on it. And though this story is certainly about the Weasleys and their wonderful family and welcoming house, it is also about Harry Potter and what he found there when he was all grown up and wasn't even looking.


	2. Chapter 2

_Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap_

Harry Potter groggily opened one eye and looked toward the offending noise. He was much too tired after his flight home from Bulgaria yesterday and late night arrival to open the window for the owl. He closed his eyes again and put a pillow over his head, but the tapping continued. Wearily, he fumbled for his wand on the bed stand and pointed it at the window. It opened to admit a rather large, tawny owl, one he didn't recognize. The owl hopped over to his dresser and looked up at him expectantly.

"Alright, alright," Harry said, accepting a cream-colored envelope with green handwriting from the owl and tossing it half of a cream cheese sandwich he'd bought at the airport and had been snacking on when he went to bed. The owl caught the sandwich and flew back out the window while Harry squinted down at his letter, reaching for his glasses.

Though he hadn't seen one of these in years he immediately knew that the letter had come from Hogwarts. The school crest was emblazoned on the envelope, but even without it the green ink would have identified the letter's source. Curiously, it was July 31st—his 31st—birthday, the very day he'd gotten his first Hogwarts letter 20 years ago.

Harry turned the letter over and broke the seal. He drew out a single sheet of parchment, cut into a rectangle and folded neatly in half. Minerva McGonagall's fine, spidery handwriting greeted him.

_Dear Mr. Potter (Harry):_

_Welcome back to England! Once again, close to start of term, Hogwarts finds itself without a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. This is a difficult situation for Hogwarts, especially since we had finally broken the "curse" on the position with the successful two-year tenure of Professor Flynn. However, Professor Flynn has recently tendered his resignation due to some residual curse damage, and will be unable to fulfill the terms of his three-year contract._

_I sought the consul of Remus Lupin and the Hogwarts Board of Directors, and your name was mentioned several times as a strong candidate for the job. I would consider it a personal favor if you would consider accepting this position, at least for this academic year. All staff are provided salary and stipend as well as full room and board at Hogwarts. Term begins September 1__st__, as always._

_Harry, I know that you have had quite a few exciting years since leaving Hogwarts. After eight years as a professional Quidditch player and nearly six more as an Auror, a job at your old school might seem terribly mundane. I am also aware that you have devoted your life to philanthropic causes, your family, and to the education of the wizarding masses to help ensure that another Lord Voldemort does not arise in your lifetime or afterwards. I am convinced that you can continue these activities from Hogwarts, and ask that you consider helping out an old friend._

_Please consider and reply by owl by August 3__rd__._

_Cordially,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_P.S. Happy Birthday!_

_P.P.S. I have also contacted the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They have assured me that you may take a leave of absence for up to two years without permanently giving up your position or losing any seniority you may have attained._

Harry finished reading the letter yet remained on his bed, staring at the parchment. A job at Hogwarts? Teaching? A slow smile stretched across his face. He looked out the window and imagined he could see the castle off in the distance. He'd had an incredibly eventful life since leaving Hogwarts but the best years, despite the battle that nearly claimed his own life and the lives of many of those he held dear, were those spent inside the castle grounds. He hadn't been back to Hogwarts very often and wondered if having a job there would force him to face the ghosts he'd been avoiding all these years. The last visit, three years ago, on the 10th anniversary of the battle, had been the briefest he'd made. He had endured the welcoming presentation by the current Minister of Magic and had sat stiffly between Hermione and Ron for the calling of the roll. A name followed by a deep bell peal for each life lost.

_Cedric Diggory . . . boooom . . . Sirius Black . . . Albus Dumbledore…Percy Weasley . . . . Rubeus Ha…_

Harry shook his head, willing the oppressive memory to cease. "Just DO it," he muttered out loud. "Don't think about it anymore." He carried the parchment into the kitchen and grabbed a quill from the jumble of items on the counter where he had emptied his pockets the night before. He scribbled a "Yes. Send more details, please!," signed his name and hurried out to the atrium to find Hedwig.

Hedwig was Harry's owl. He'd had her for 20 years now, and she was definitely showing her age. She'd gone to his "hardship" assignment in Bulgaria with him two years ago and they had both returned last night. She'd gratefully claimed her homey roost when he'd opened her travel cage. He didn't use her as much anymore for correspondence, but she still enjoyed a fly about to exercise her wings.

"Fancy a trip to Hogwarts, girl?" he asked softly as he rolled up the parchment and tied it to her leg. Hedwig hooted throatily and nipped his finger. "Take this to Professor McGonagall," he directed. "Headmaster's office . . ." Hedwig stretched her wings as he finished attaching the letter then hopped to the railing and was gone.

He leaned against the railing, watching her disappear from view over the trees.

_Crack!_

Harry whirled around, practically falling over the railing in the process.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" said Hermione Weasley, rushing forward to wrap him in a tight hug. She stood back and held him at arm's length to look him over. His hair was as messy as ever, his eyes just as green behind glasses that were still round and frameless. The trademark scar that he'd carried on his forehead since the age of one was still there, though half-hidden behind long, unruly bangs, and much fainter since the final defeat of the Dark Lord who had given it to him. He had grown to nearly 6' tall and was, in the opinion of _Witch Weekly_ and most of the witches in England and across the continent (and Hermione herself), quite handsome. It helped, of course, that he was also one of the richest wizards in the world. But looking at him in this modest cottage, built on the property he inherited from his parents in Godric's Hollow, one would never guess that he was better off financially than the Prince of Wales.

"You're looking good," said Hermione, releasing him and smiling broadly. "And happy . . ."

"I _am_ happy, Hermione," replied Harry. He had already decided to keep this new piece of news to himself for a while. "It's my birthday after all, isn't it?" He laughed then and hugged her again.

"And you're finally _home!_" she added.

Harry grinned back at her. "You're looking good yourself," he teased, patting her stomach. "Last time I saw you you were waddling like a duck and looked like you swallowed a basketball. How is …." He closed his eyes, pretending to think very hard. "Little . . . Will?"

"Finally sleeping through the night," she answered.

"Where _are_ Ron and the tribe?" he asked as they walked together back to the kitchen.

"Waiting for you at the Burrow, of course," Hermione answered. "You're going to be there in 15 minutes for Quidditch . . ."

Harry groaned and slapped his forehead. Hermione laughed. He loved it when she laughed. She had grown so much lighter, so much more relaxed, over the last dozen years.

"You promised, you know," she said. "Harry's been looking forward to this for weeks. These last couple years with you off in Bulgaria have been hard for the kids . . ." She paused and reached over for her friend's hand. "And for us, of course. We've all missed you Harry. We're so very glad you're back. You _are_ back to stay, aren't you? This Auror business is ….well, it's _worrisome, _Harry." She studied him carefully, as if looking for new scars. Harry was quite grateful she couldn't see the long white slash across his stomach that he'd acquired on his last assignment.

Harry laughed. "You sound like Molly, Hermione. But stop worrying for a while. No more trips off the island for me for a bit," he said as he went back to his room and started pulling things out of his trunk. "Ron still has my old Firebolt, doesn't he?" he called back.

"Of course," answered Hermione. "And Harry is taking great care of his Comet XL. You really shouldn't have you know . . ." Hermione had walked over to his door and waited there while Harry pulled his old Chudley Cannon Quidditch practice robes over his head.

"Of course I should have," he answered. "He's my godson. My _first_ godson too!"

"You're too good to him, Harry. To all of us . . ."

"How can I be too good to my family?" he quipped, giving her a peck on the cheek as he rushed by her toward the bathroom.

"All the others were expecting brooms for their birthdays after he got his," she called to him down the hallway.

Harry poked his head out of the bathroom doorway. "And they weren't disappointed, I assume?. Godfathers giving brooms to their Godsons is a tradition I want to continue." Memories of unwrapping his Firebolt for the first time flitted through his head and he pushed them aside quickly, but Hermione caught the wistful look.

Hermione smiled as her friend came out into the hall and did a mock twirl in front of her.

"All right then?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she replied with a laugh. "Except that those robes clash horribly with your eyes."

"Not as badly as they do with the Weasley hair," he answered.

"Ready then?" asked Hermione, preparing to apparate.

Harry nodded. "Home, then," he said. And with a double _crack_, they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"Uncle Harry!"

The four Harrys had been on him in an instant when he apparated in the middle of the practice pitch behind the Burrow. Harry had hugged each in turn, then made them stand in a row in front of him while he sorted them out.

"OK, Harry Arthur.—end of line," he commanded.

The tallest of the Harrys changed position and Harry pointed his wand at his forehead.

"You don't _have_ to mark me, you know," protested Harry. "I'm the tallest. You can sort me out that way."

"Not on a broom," said Uncle Harry with a smile. "Alpha A," he muttered. A large capital A, slightly glowing, appeared on Harry's head. Harry Arthur rubbed it with his hand but the letter didn't blur or fade.

"Harry William—next position."

The long-haired Harry scurried over to stand next to his cousin. This Harry wore his hair in a pony-tail and was the easiest of all to pick out. Still, Harry muttered the spell and a large capital W soon glowed on the child's forehead.

"Fred's Harry!"

A miniature copy of Fred . . . or possibly George….took his position next to Bill's Harry.. The trouble with the last two Harrys was that they looked so much alike they were often mistaken for twin brothers.

Harry scrutinized this Harry closely. Like their famous fathers, these two cousins were not above changing places to confuse the adults. Satisfied that Harry Percival. was indeed Harry Percival., he marked him with a "P" and finished off with Harry #4, George's son, who accepted his "L" for Lionel willingly.

"OK, 10 laps while I go hug your Grandma," he commanded, blowing a silver whistle. "On your feet, not your broom!" he called out with a laugh as two of the boys mounted their brooms.

Harry turned toward the Burrow, smiling as a tangle of people appeared on the lawn and started toward him.

"Harry!" exclaimed Molly Weasley, running toward him as fast as she could go. She enveloped him in one of her trademark hugs, dusting him with flour from her apron as she did so.

"Let him breathe, Mum, let him breathe," laughed Ron, hugging Harry himself when Molly finally let him go. "It's good to see you, mate. Lovely robes, those."

"Just spottin'," exclaimed George, cracking a wide grin at Harry.

"Robes to kill for," said Fred, shaking Harry's hand and shocking it with some sort of joke device hidden against his palm.

"Nice one," said Harry, rubbing his hand and reminding himself to bar all Weasley products from his classroom.

"How was your trip, dear?" asked Molly, waving her wand casually and conjuring five lawn chairs. She sank into hers and sighed as the others followed her lead.

"Tiring, but fine," answered Harry truthfully.

"A muggle aeroplane of all things," she said sadly, remembering how a muggle aeroplane had spelled the end of her daughter's happiness for many years. "Arthur told me international portkeys are hard to authorize these days, but you'd think for _Harry Potter_ they could make an exception . . ."

"Mum," warned Ron. "You know . . ."

"I know, I know." Molly shook her head and pursed her lips. "Harry doesn't want special treatment. But those aeroplanes . . ."

"My trip was fine," cut in Harry. "Sat next to a young woman from Scotland, in fact. She was returning from holiday . . ."

"Oh!" Molly brightened up immediately at the mention of the woman. "A woman! So, what was she like, Harry dear?"

Fred and George exchanged glances and even Ron suppressed a smirk. When it came to the subject of Harry and his love life, Molly was a raving mad lunatic. She couldn't understand why the hero of the wizarding world, the boy who had become a son to her, was still a bachelor.

"Oh, do tell us, Harry!" chimed in Fred. "Did you get her phelly-tone number?"

"What was her name, then, Harry ol' chap?" asked George. "Does she have any objections to naming your first-born . . . say . . . . Harry?"

Molly shot scathing glances at her sons then turned and beamed at Harry.

"We'll discuss it later, dear, when we have a few minutes alone."

"Thanks, Mum," said Harry. He turned his head toward the pitch, where the boys had finished their laps and had collapsed, panting, on the grass.

"Man your brooms!" he shouted, standing up. _"Accio Firebolt!"_

Harry's school broom sailed out of the broom shed and stopped obediently beside him.

"Boys against Dads, then?" suggested Harry.

"And whose team will you be on?" asked Ron as he, too, summoned his broom.

"I'll referee," he said, pulling out his whistle.

"Yes sir, Madam Hooch," teased Fred. _"Accio Comet 99!"_

"Hey! That's my broom!" exclaimed George, grabbing the handle as it whizzed by and getting a fistful of splinters.

"Where's Bill?" asked Ron. "We'd need him out here or we'll be short a chaser."

"You'll never get him out here, Ron," said Molly. "He's holed up in there with Ginny. You know how those two get when she's home . . ."

"What?" Harry pivoted to face Molly. She was grinning broadly, and Ron, Fred and George were laughing.

"She's here? Ginny's at the Burrow?" he asked, looking from one to the next.

"Yeah, she's here all right, mate," said Ron, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Been planning this trip for ages, it seems. Good bit of luck that it lined up so nicely with you coming home, isn't it?"

"Yeah, nice luck," said Harry, a pleased grin plastered on his face. Come to think of it, Ginny had been here last time he had visited, two years ago just before he had left for Bulgaria. He glanced at the house once more before mounting his broom and sailing off to the pitch, the kids behind him in a flash.

"He really loves her, doesn't he?" asked Molly with a sigh.

"Sure, Mum. Like we all do. Like his sister," said Ron. "We all know that's how it's always been with them."

_ But I can hope, _thought Molly. _One day he's going to realize she's perfect for him._


	4. Chapter 4

Several hours later, Harry sat on one of the worn and comfortable sofas in front of the fireplace, holding a sleeping Will Weasley. Hermione sat next to him with a drowsy little Molly in her lap. Hermione wasn't saying much. Instead, she was following the very animated conversation between Harry and Ginny, who was seated in a rocking chair across from them. Ginny, despite her life in Paris, didn't fit the Parisian model. She was not uncomfortably thin but athletically built and on the short side for a Weasley. She was wearing Muggle jeans with a hole in the knee, a green t-shirt and sandals. Ginny was relaxed and comfortable at nearly 30, outgoing, without a trace of the childish awkwardness that had been her trademark as a girl.

"No, I _don't_ think it's fair!' protested Ginny. "The rule has been in place for hundreds of years. Substitutions are simply not allowed . . ."

"But all other sports allow them," countered Harry. "Football, baseball, cricket . . ."

"Quidditch isn't all other sports!" exclaimed Ginny animatedly. "Surely you, of all people . . ."

"Girls, Girls, Girls!" said George from across the room. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Fred and the Harrys, testing out some new Wheezes on the young subjects, who were amazingly willing given their prior experience with the twins.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to Harry.

"Next they'll want to bring back the Snidget!" she exclaimed, referring to the endangered little bird that long ago had been replaced by the golden snitch.

Little Will stretched his arms and screwed up his eyes, as if to cry.

"Oops!' whispered Ginny contritely. She'd been enjoying this argument and was reluctant to leave it.

"Why don't you take him for a while?" asked Harry, standing up with the baby and shifting him to his other shoulder.

"Me? Oh, Harry, you know I don't do bab…."

But he had already placed the baby in her arms. She held him awkwardly a moment and Harry sighed and helped her rearrange her arms.

"Better," he said as Will snuggled into his new accommodations and relaxed. "You're the one sitting in the rocker, after all," he added as he settled down next to Hermione.

"You're a much better uncle than I am," sighed Ginny, looking down at the sleeping baby affectionately.

"I hope so," said Harry with a grin. "Considering you're an aunt, not an uncle."

"You know what I meant!" she shot back.

"What are your plans now, Harry?" asked Hermione suddenly.

"Plans?" asked Harry.

"Well, now that you're back home, I mean," she explained. "You'll probably get a few weeks off before you have to accept another assignment, won't you?"

Suddenly, Harry remembered that Charlie worked at Hogwarts. He wondered if anyone besides McGonagall knew of his job offer.

"I thought I'd make a few visits," he said. "Spend a couple days with Remus and Tonks. Maybe go up to Hogwarts and visit …."

Hermione and Ginny looked startled.

"Hogwarts, Harry?" asked Ginny with a bit of alarm.

"Why shouldn't I go to Hogwarts?" asked Harry a bit defensively.

Hermione reached out and put her hand on Harry's knee. "Harry, of course you should go if you'd like. It's just that we all know how it is when you go . . . I guess we just assumed . . ."

"Assumed what?" he asked, locking eyes with her. But try as he might, he couldn't fool her, or Ginny for that matter. Brave front be damned. Both of them knew that the most courageous of the Gryffindors had only returned to Hogwarts three times since he left after the final battle: once for the memorial service honoring the staff and students who had died and were buried on the grounds, once for the dedication of the Hero's Memorial and one final time for the 10 year anniversary of the defeat of Lord Voldemort. And he was a different man when he was there—more haunted than nostalgic, more angry than thankful.

"Well, I guess we assumed you feel like we do," said Ginny quietly. "Like it hurts too much to go back."

"It does," he admitted, leaning back into the worn cushions of the divan. "All these years later it still hurts. But after this time away, it feels like something is calling me home. I know that's silly," he said, looking up at Ginny. "And I know that _this_ is home," he circled his arm around to indicate the Burrow. "But I was thinking of the castle this morning, and the Great Hall…."

"Owl post during breakfast," said Hermione, smiling.

"The Fat Lady," said Ginny.

"Peeves!" said Fred from across the room.

"The sorting hat," said Bill. He'd been sitting on the floor across the room, playing with Jane, Neville and little Fred and George.

"The Welcome Feast!" said Ron. They all laughed. Ron's favorite memories always revolved around food.

"The library . . ." sighed Hermione.

"And besides," said Harry, looking over to the kitchen table. "Marie is already at Hogwarts, and the Harrys are about to go off. I think it's time for another visit, and I'd like to see Professor McGonagall again. . . ."

"I'll go with you," said Ginny unexpectedly.

Harry stared at her. She had a set, determined look on her face, a look that reminded him suddenly of the 14-year old Ginny in the Forbidden Forest, stubbornly insisting that she _would_ be accompanying them to the Department of Mysteries, and riding an invisible thestral at that.

They locked eyes a moment and something passed between them, perhaps a moment of understanding, perhaps a shared memory of courage and daring.

"That would be great," he said finally. "Why don't we plan on Wednesday?"


	5. Chapter 5

A Hogwarts owl was waiting for Harry when he apparated back into his cottage later that night. He had enjoyed a wonderful birthday at the Burrow, and was holding a tall stack of presents and two foil-wrapped pieces of birthday cake when the owl hooted happily at him and flew onto his shoulder.

"Wait a minute!" protested Harry, still feeling quite good from his Quidditch workout with the Weasleys, young and old, and his birthday dinner. Seeing Ginny had been great—it had been nearly three years since they'd really visited—the Christmas before he'd left for Bulgaria, in fact.

He dropped his presents on the bed, and took the thick envelope from the owl. She blinked at him several times and looked at the cake he was still holding.

"Oh, OK," he laughed. He gave her a piece of cake, which she ate gratefully, but didn't appear to be in any hurry to leave afterward.

"You're waiting for a reply, I take it," he said as he dropped into a chair and opened the envelope. The owl hooted softly.

Harry unfolded a letter with what appeared to be a contract folded up inside of it.

_Dear Harry:_

_I was pleased to receive your response to my letter of earlier today. The enclosed magical contract contains the details of the teaching arrangement at Hogwarts. You will need to arrive by August 24__th__ and should arrange your own transportation. A visit earlier to acquaint yourself with the changes at Hogwarts since your time here is also encouraged. Please send notice by return owl informing me of when you can make a short visit to the castle._

_Harry, permit an old woman a personal note. I am still smiling as I write this, knowing that this arrangement is perfect both for Hogwarts and yourself. It is time, Harry, to come to terms with the past. You will always have a place here, in the halls that you first called Home. _

_I have had a chat with your Headmaster's portrait informing him of your decision and I do believe I saw a tear in the corner of his eye. However, I believe I will keep the news of your new position to myself until start of term, which should help avoid some of the unwanted press coverage both at Kings Cross Station on the 1__st__ of September and at the school on the 24__th__ when the faculty arrives._

_Best wishes to you, Harry. It was a pleasure to see Hedwig again. She's looking quite well for an owl of her age._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva_

"Minerva?" said Harry aloud with a chuckle. The idea of calling his old professors by their first names was as humorous as it was frightening.

Seeing that the Hogwarts owl was still waiting, Harry found a fresh piece of parchment and wrote a quick note to the Headmistress, emitting a sound that was half chuckle, half groan as he penned "Dear Minerva."

_Dear Minerva:_

_A visit to Hogwarts in a few days sounds great. I can arrive on Wednesday morning and stay just the day. Please be sure to tell Remus that I'm coming as I'd like to visit with him while I am there. By the way, I'll be bringing a friend with me. Ginny Weasley is home from Paris for the month and offered to join me when I spoke of visiting. The Weasleys don't know of this new turn in my life as I thought I'd keep it to myself until the details were worked out. They were understandably surprised when I told them I'd like to visit Hogwarts. That's certainly why Ginny offered to go with me—they know how I've been on past visits and want someone from the family with me. I expect I'll have to tell Ginny before we arrive. You can count on her keeping the confidence._

_See you Wednesday,_

_Harry Potter_

Harry read through the letter again then rolled it up and tied it to the school owl's leg. He held out another chunk of cake for her, which she accepted with a small hoot before hopping over to the window and sailing out over the forest.

Harry looked around the room. He was tired. His muscles were sore from Quidditch, especially the last match after dinner when he and Ginny had gone head to head as Seekers on opposing teams. It has been a wild game, with all five of the older children on the pitch along with Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Charlie's wife Chloe and Fred's wife Diane. They'd put two young Harrys on each team as chasers. Chloe and Charlie played the other two chasers, one for each team. Fred and Bill were beaters for Ginny's team, and George and Marie for Harry's. Finally, Ron kept for Harry's team and Diane for Ginny's. Arthur performed a color-changing spell on their shirts so that Harry's team blazed lime green and Ginny's shocking pink.

The game had been incredibly fierce, and the teams incredibly balanced. After an hour of play, the score was 80-80 and the snitch nowhere to be seen. Harry had finally seen it when the score was 120-110, Ginny's team up, and another half hour had passed. It was hovering right behind his own team's goal. Ginny wasn't letting him out of her sight, however, flying behind him with an uncanny, practiced ease, as if she was accustomed to keeping him in her sights. A distraction . . . .he'd need a distraction. Thinking quickly, he flew up next to her and said, "Hey, did you hear Hermione's pregnant again?" While her mouth dropped open, he roared off and had the snitch in his hand and was doing a victory lap high over the field before she caught up with him and started beating him on the head.

"Not fair! Not fair!" she yelled while the rest of the players gratefully got off their brooms and rubbed their sore backsides.

Harry grinned.

"All's fair in love and Quidditch, Gin," he said as he landed, dismounted, and put his broom over his shoulder.

"Is she really, though, Harry?" asked Ginny as they walked toward the broom shed. She shot a furtive look over at her sister-in-law, who was patiently listening to her Harry ramble on about the game.

"Nah," he said. "Well, at least I don't think so. Wouldn't be too much of a shock, really, though, would it?"

Ginny laughed. "No, I suppose it wouldn't. You know, back in school, I would have laughed outright if someone had told me that Hermione would have five kids someday. She just didn't seem the type."

They had reached the broom shed and Harry hung up the old Firebolt, then reached out for Ginny's Cleansweep. "But you did," he said, with his back turned toward her as he hung up the broom.

Ginny's mouth opened as if to protest, then closed again. She looked away.

"Hey, Gin, I'm sorry," said Harry, draping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him for a sideways hug. "I didn't mean it that way. Just meant that people change, that's all."

"I know, Harry," she said, leaning her head onto his shoulder for a moment. "But it's true. I was the type, back then. Wanted a big family and a career exactly like Mum's." She sighed. "But people do change, and really, I have everything I always wanted. Friends, family, babies to hold if I ever feel an emptiness in my arms . . ." 

Now, sitting on his bed hours later, Harry suddenly realized how poignant that last statement was. There were other things to fill your arms with, after all, than babies. He quickly put that thought away and started clearing the birthday presents off his bed so he could turn in for the night. There was a brand-new emerald green jumper from Molly and Arthur and a knit set of hat and gloves from Ron and Hermione, who was still an avid knitter though she had given up on house elves. The Harrys had all gone together and gotten him an orange Chudley Cannons jersey with "Uncle Harry" written in magical blinking sparkles on the back. He chuckled as he draped it over a chair and put the rest of the gifts—chocolates and a pocket watch and such—on his bedside table.

Finally, he picked up a box of chocolate frogs that Ginny had given him.

"These have just come out on the continent," she had said when he opened them. "I think you'll be surprised."

"What, do the frogs croak in French?" asked George with a laugh. He and Fred and the kids had all started doing impressions of French bullfrogs.

"Open them at home, Harry," she said with a smile. "You'll see."

Now he was home. He opened the box and looked at the box lid. He didn't read much French, but could make out the words for "New" and "Hero."

He pulled out a package and opened it. The chocolate frog jumped onto the dresser but Harry let it go. It was the card that grabbed his attention. Staring back at him was a face he knew very well. His own face. He grabbed another frog, tore open the package and let the frog jump away. Sirius. One by one he opened them until the whole set of 8 was splayed out on his bed. Two Harrys, one Sirius, one Remus, a Snape, two Dumbledores and a Hagrid. He carefully stacked them up and tapped the top one with his wand. _"Traduscus," _he muttered. The unreadable French words morphed into English and he read them all, one at a time, then carefully placed them inside his well-worn copy of "Quidditch Through the Ages" and fell asleep thinking about pink umbrellas and big black dogs.


	6. Chapter 6

At 8 a.m. on Wednesday morning, Harry Potter rolled out of the kitchen fireplace at the Burrow. He stood up and smiled apologetically at Molly, who was standing at the stove looking at him a bit disapprovingly.

"You should just apparate, dear, really," she said. "You've never quite gotten that floo thing down, have you?"

"Better to make a fool of myself here than at the Three Broomsticks," he said with a laugh, dusting off his black traveling cloak. "I thought I'd get a bit of practice in. Guess I'm still a bit rusty."

"Yes, a bit," replied Molly with a wink, returning to her cooking. "Grab a plate, dear. Ginny will be down in a few minutes then you two can be off."

Harry sat down with bacon, eggs and toast and true to Molly's word, Ginny appeared a few minutes later. She smiled brightly at Harry, kissed her mother on the cheek then filled a plate and sat down across from Harry. As she began to eat, Harry spoke up.

"Listen, Ginny. You don't have to go with me, you know. I'll be OK this time."

Ginny swallowed a bite of eggs and reached over and squeezed Harry's hand.

"Sure you will, Harry. But I'm still going." She took another bite of eggs then buttered a piece of toast.

Ten minutes later, Ginny disappeared in the fire after proclaiming "The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade." Harry watched her spin and disappear, then turned to say goodbye to Molly.

"You have a good visit, Harry," she said as she hugged him. "Tell Percy hello for me, won't you?"

"I will," he replied as she released him. Like many of those that had fallen in that final battle, Percy was buried at Hogwarts, under the tree they used to call the Whomping Willow but which was now disenchanted and known simply as the Weeping Willow.

Harry hugged Molly once more then grabbed a handful of floo powder and followed Ginny. Molly stared at the empty fireplace for a moment, reaching up to run her finger along the top of Percy's picture, cleaning off an invisible layer of dust.

A minute later, Harry stumbled out of the fireplace into the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. He landed upright, much to his relief, and Ginny grabbed his arm almost right away, propelling him to the door. He wondered briefly how she was always able to anticipate his next step.

"Harry? Is that Harry Potter?" a voice behind them called out.

"Keep walking," whispered Ginny. "I don't know how they got word you were going to be here."

Harry stopped, forcing her to stop as well. "I don't run," he said quietly. "Not anymore." He turned around to find himself face to face with Rita Skeeter, the famous reporter for _The Daily Prophet._

"Rita," he said quietly, extending his hand. "It's been a long time."

"You've been keeping out of sight," she said, a little too brightly. "What brings you to Hogsmeade today?"

"I've been out of the country on assignment," he answered politely. "And I'm here to visit Minerva McGonagall. She's expecting me so I'd best be going. It was good to see you again." He nodded to her and turned to follow Ginny out the door. Rita watched him go without protest, chewing quietly on her quill.

They had no more interruptions on the way to the gates of Hogwarts, though several people smiled or waved to him, and both he and Ginny heard the occasional whisper of "Yes, it's him. Harry Potter" or "Of course a Weasley. Ginny, I think. A year behind him in school."

The gates of Hogwarts stood open and they passed through silently, walking up toward the castle doors. From halfway up the hill, Hagrid's hut could be seen in the distance. It had been partially burned down in Harry's 6th year, but Hagrid had painstakingly rebuilt it and it had miraculously survived the Final Battle. Harry stopped and gazed at it a moment until Ginny took his hand and gently pulled him along.

"I'm sure she's waiting for us," she said softly. "We're a bit late."

"Hold on, Ginny," he said, turning to her suddenly. "There's something I should tell you before we go up there." He looked down at the hut again, watching the curl of white smoke rise from the chimney, then up toward the castle entrance where the hero's memorial stood. Ginny raised her eyebrows, waiting.

"There's another reason I'm coming here today," he began. He looked directly at her. "I guess I should have told you earlier but I've only known for a few days myself."

"Go on then," she said, creasing her eyebrows.

"I've been offered a job here, and I've accepted it," he said rather quickly, running the words together. "Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

A sudden surprised—almost alarmed—look crossed her face, so fast he thought he'd imagined it. But the look was followed by a broad smile and Ginny surprised him by reaching out to hug him.

"Harry, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You're perfect for the job! And you'll be teaching the Harrys too! Why didn't you tell us all when you found out?"

He let out a sigh of relief. That had gone well and maybe he had just imagined that look he thought he'd seen. "I guess I needed time to digest it," he answered. "Then McGonagall wrote that she'd like to keep it quiet too, keep the press at bay a bit longer. It's not going to be announced formally until the Welcoming Feast."

"Does Charlie know?" she asked.

"Don't think so. Only Remus, from what McGonagall said."

"I guess that means I get to keep it quiet too, eh?" she asked, winking at him. "Don't worry, Harry. I can keep it under my hat. I'm good at that. But I do think it's brilliant, really."

They continued their trek up the hill and within a few minutes stood in front of the castle doors. The hero's memorial, erected a year after the Battle for Hogwarts, stood in the courtyard directly behind them. Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs facing the great doors but Ginny stayed behind him in the courtyard.

"You may as well get it over with now," she said. "You're going to be seeing it every day now, every time you come out of these doors."

Harry sighed. She was right, of course. He was just postponing the inevitable. Sighing, he turned around slowly.

The memorial was actually quite understated, much less than the Ministry of Magic had wanted and planned. They had proposed a fountain similar to the one destroyed in the atrium of the Ministry Building. It would have had life-size statues of representatives of the heroes of the battles leading up to Voldemort's defeat. Hagrid was to represent the teachers, Neville the students, Dobby the House Elves, Dumbledore the Order of the Phoenix. But somehow Harry couldn't see those four spending an eternity with water shooting out of their ears or wands or even Hagrid's umbrella. It seemed almost irreverent to him, and the idea that they would all be dancing in the water around an elevated statue of himself was most unappealing. So he had made his wishes known, and McGonagall had made sure they were met.

That memorial statue Harry now gazed at was placed squarely in the middle of the small courtyard. It looked almost real—a tall perch topped by a glorious Phoenix. The Phoenix was golden, though the one the statue represented gleamed both red and gold. A single tear clung to the phoenix's face. An inscription in the gold perch read "For our Fallen Friends" and on the courtyard stones were inscribed the names of those known to have lost that lives in the final battle and in all the time since Voldemort's rebirth at the end of Harry's 4th year.

His reaction today wasn't unlike either of the other times he'd seen the memorial. He walked around the memorial once, reaching out to touch the golden Phoenix. When he looked down, the first name he saw was "Luna Lovegood." His breath caught and he sank onto the nearest reflecting bench. Ginny sat down next to him, dabbing at her own face with a handkerchief.

"Had the same effect on me for months," said a quiet voice behind them. "I have no idea why we had it put so close to the castle doors."

Harry looked up at the phoenix again as Abeforth Dumbledore joined them on the bench. The old Headmaster's brother had been teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts since Minerva McGonagall had assumed the rank of Headmistress in what would have been Harry's 7th and final year of school.

"You'll get used to it, with time," he said. "You'll find yourself coming out here to stare at it. To read the names and talk to them again."

Harry wiped his eyes and gazed up at the statue of the Phoenix who had flown into the horizon on the day Albus Dumbledore died. Strangely, amid all the death and destruction of those terrible days, it was Albus Dumbledore's death that had been hardest to come to terms with. Hagrid had died protecting hundreds of younger students from dozens of death eaters. Not a single student below 6th year had lost his or her life because of Hagrid. Neville and Luna had also willingly faced their end. They had died together with their guardians—Luna's father and Neville's grandmother had both joined the Order by the end—in a very brave counteroffensive during the last days of the siege. Dobby and a hundred other house elves had all fought bravely, with Dobby losing his life as he helped Harry pull wreckage off of Percy Weasley after freeing Bill. Sirius had died long before the final battle and as Harry had finally accepted, had fought freely and willingly, and had died bravely. But Dumbledore . . . Dumbledore had sacrificed his life for Harry. Dumbledore, Harry knew, had died, at the end, so Harry could live.

"You should know, Harry," said Abeforth, rather quietly, his voice still resonating with the quiet power that Harry remembered, "that Minerva has split Professor Bin's History of Magic Course into two parts now. Students listen to Professor Binns for half the period then study Modern Magical History the second half. The Battle for Hogwarts is taught to all first years, and on pleasant days, the classes are taught right here around the memorial." He looked up at the statue again, staring at the phoenix with his outspread wings.

"You need to let it go, Harry," he said quite quietly. "My brother was not meant to fight this battle…you were…the last true Gryffindor."

Fawkes, as Harry had found out only after he was gone, had been at Hogwarts at the school's founding. In those days, he'd perched on the shoulder and in the office of Godric Gryffindor himself.

Abeforth and Harry sat in silence for several minutes, staring at the statue, and remembering.

Finally, the old man stood and turned back toward the castle doors. He looked over at Ginny and Harry saw them exchange a look he couldn't interpret, the kind of look that showed they shared something in common when it came to Harry. _Protectiveness?_ No, why would Ginny be protective of him? Abeforth had stepped into Albus' shoes after his brother's death, and had supported Harry and his friends during those long months of searching for the horcruxes and the relic of Godric Gryffindor.

"There are other changes as well. Why don't you come up to the Headmistress' office so Minerva can cover them?"

Harry and Ginny stood up. The lump in Harry's throat had begun to subside. As they climbed the stairs to the great doors, he asked "Who teaches Modern Magical History?"

Abeforth paused and turned back to face Harry. His eyes showed the faintest trace of his brother's trademark twinkle, the twinkle that had not been seen for 14 years.

"Madame Maxine joined us several years ago after leaving Beauxbatons," he answered. "But I teach the first years myself. I have hoped that you might be able to assist me this year, and take over after that, providing that you stay on at Hogwarts, of course."


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was surprised to find that the headmaster's office had changed very little since his days at Hogwarts. The password Abeforth spoke to open the hidden door behind the gargoyles had nothing to do with candy, of course. He couldn't even remember it now, but thought it sounded like Latin. The office itself decidedly had a more feminine touch but the tables and instruments were still there, the desk was in the same position, and the sorting hat sat on the same shelf. The headmaster's portraits slumbered or watched them with curiosity. Several waved happily at Harry, apparently pleased to see him. The most obvious difference was the addition of a new portrait. Albus Dumbledore was depicted sitting behind his desk, his half-moon glasses pushed low on his nose. He was reading a book, and his pointed purple hat with golden stars sat beside the book on the desk, drooping over in the middle.

"Minerva," said Abeforth as they entered her office. "Harry is here."

The Dumbledore in the portrait closed his book and looked up. He squinted a bit and smiled, his eyes twinkling in the portrait.

Minerva McGonagall looked up from her desk and smiled. "Hello, hello. Come in, do sit down." She pointed to two chairs near her desk. They sat at once, and Abeforth conjured up a third more comfortable chair for himself.

"You won't find many obvious changes, Harry," she said after offering them tea and biscuits. "We still have four houses, four heads of houses, the same point system and, of course, detentions. The common rooms and dormitories are in the same places and naturally, there is still Quidditch. Apparation on the grounds is still impossible. No new ghosts have taken up residence and none have departed either. We still employ about 100 house elves. The curriculum has changed a bit. Divination is no longer taught as a practical art. The theory is taught to third and fourth years, and only those that show a very real ability are taught the practical art itself, and that only under special arrangement. There have been some changes in our History of Magic classes which I'll ask Abeforth to cover with you later. Muggle Studies now has real practicum, with field trips to Muggle Scotland and class sessions with some of the Muggle relatives of our students."

"I assume the Forbidden Forest is still forbidden?" asked Harry, winking at Ginny.

McGonagall smiled. She looked decidedly less stern than he remembered her. "Indeed it is, Harry, and I hope our new students pay more attention to that rule than you did."

"About my classes, uh . . .Minerva," began Harry. "Are there instructional materials available or recommended? Text books and such?"

"You have full freedom to choose what you would like for each level, Harry, but we've had success these past years with a series chosen by Remus Lupin." She waved her wand and a stack of seven books slid off of shelf behind her and sailed across the room to land in a neat stack in front of Harry. "Take those with you and see if they will do. I'm afraid you'll be stuck with them this year, anyway, since the book lists have already gone out. But you can supplement them with any materials you'd like."

"Who is head of Gryffindor House now?" asked Ginny.

"I was just getting to that," said McGonagall carefully. "Professor Flynn served as Head of Gryffindor House these past two years. I was hoping that you would consider the position, Harry."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "I . . . uh . . . I would be honored." He paused as Minerva's smile widened. "But what exactly are the duties of a Head of House?" He grimaced as he remembered the many times Professor McGonagall had been called to his dormitory during the years he'd been tied to Voldemort's mind.

"Oh, the usual," answered the Headmistress. "Appoint a Quidditch Captain, pass out schedules, take students who are having visions up to see the Headmaster…" She gave Harry an exaggerated wink and continued. "I am sure you are up to the task, Mr. Potter. There are tasks having to do with discipline, and counseling and encouragement as well. I just thought it _appropriate_ that you head up your old house."

"I . . .I think I could handle that," he replied.

"A bit extra pay for that, then," said McGonagall, tapping the contract that she had laid out on her desk. "The Gryffindors are quite a rowdy lot, Harry, and I expect that we'll have even more commotion with all those Weasleys we're about to inherit."

"They may not all be sorted into Gryffindor," he suggested, but both Ginny and McGonagall began to laugh.

"We'll see, we'll see," said the headmistress, glancing over at the sorting hat.

"What else do I need to know?" asked Harry when Ginny had finished laughing and McGonagall had finished her contract changes.

"The biggest changes here at Hogwarts," she replied. "I haven't told you yet."

Harry was intrigued. He couldn't imagine what else was different, unless they had changed the schedules or upped the security levels immensely.

"After the events of 13 years ago, Harry, the directors of the school began to look much more closely at the house system, particularly with an eye for how it both unites and divides the students. In the end, it was decided to retain the house system but to make broader attempts to inspire unity among all Hogwarts students. To this end, you will notice differences in many areas. House affiliation is now indicated with only a pin, worn on the left breast of the school robes. House tables are still used, but students sit at house tables only at suppertime, and mix freely at breakfast and lunch. Finally, we have a scheduling system that mixes students from all houses in most of the classes. No more 'Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.'"

"Most classes?" questioned Harry.

"There are a few classes that remain segregated by house," answered McGonagall, smiling at how quick Harry was to pick that up. "Flying lessons and Quidditch are still house-based, as is Astronomy."

"Astronomy?" he asked, glancing over at Ginny who shrugged her shoulders.

"Helps us keep track of students after hours," answered the headmistress. "Since practical Astronomy is at midnight, by segregating the classes we can track who has permission to be out and about much more easily."

They talked a while more, then McGonagall stood. She laid out the contract on the desk before her and asked him to read it and tap it with his wand if he was in agreement with all the provisions.

Harry read it thoroughly, butterflies dancing in his stomach as he did so. Finally he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wand and tapped the contract. It glowed briefly then disappeared with a _pop_.

"All filed," said the headmistress as she peeked in a drawer and closed it, satisfied. "You are free to roam about the castle and the grounds," she said then, looking both relieved and extremely happy. "A few of the professors have already returned. It is up to you whether you tell any of them of your new position here if you run into them. I will announce it formally on the 24th at our first meeting. Abeforth, would you like to talk to Harry now about History of Magic?"

"Already done," said the old man, walking over to stand beside her desk. "We had a short talk before we came in." He and the headmistress exchanged a glance, and McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

"Good, good then," she said finally. She looked back at Harry and Ginny. "Well go on then. Explore! I'll keep Abeforth here and you can join us for a late lunch in two hours in the Great Hall." She smiled and shooed them out of her office.

Harry and Ginny rode down the spiral staircase in silence. "Where to first?" he asked as they automatically turned to the right and made their way to the first of a number of staircases.

"Gryffindor Tower, of course," she answered. She grabbed his hand and like children running from trouble, they ran together through the halls, ducking behind tapestries and avoiding trick stairs and laughing so much they had to stop to catch their breath.

"It _is_ like riding a bike," said Ginny as she leaned against a railing breathing heavily. "It just comes back to you when you need it!"

Harry was half a corridor ahead of her. "Come on, Gin. Here she is. Sleeping of course!" He stood in front of the portrait of a very fat lady wearing a pink dress. The portrait covered the door that led to the Gryffindor common room.

"Blasted," said Ginny as she caught up with him and eyed the picture. "We didn't get the password."

"No passwords in the summer!" trilled the Fat Lady in a sing-song voice, opening one eye and looking at them blearily. Harry wondered if she'd had a bit too much to drink and was sleeping it off. "Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, smiling broadly and yawning.

The portrait swung open and they climbed through the hole into the common room. It was still furnished with the same old, squishy chairs they remembered so well. They sunk into two of them and put their feet up on an old table with a chessboard cut into the top.

"Head of Gryffindor House!" said Ginny suddenly. "Think they'll make you Quidditch Referee too?"

Harry threw a pillow at her. She caught it, laughing, and tucked it behind her head.

Harry, meanwhile, was studying the room that had been his home for seven years. He suddenly remembered something. He stood up and walked over to the fireplace. It was cold and empty today. House elves didn't light fires in the heat of the summer when no students were in residence. He knelt down in front of the fireplace and pulled back the hearth rug, exposing the polished floor boards.

"Oh, Harry, I'd forgotten," said Ginny quietly, squatting down beside him.

"Our time capsule," he sighed as he removed a loose floorboard and took out a very dusty bag made of crushed red velvet.

"Do you remember everything that we put in here?" he asked as he sat back down and placed the bag on the chess table. He was loosening the draw string as he talked.

"The DA coins," said Ginny. "The ones that showed the day and time of the next meeting." "And the article from _The Quibbler_, the one you gave Rita Skeeter. A Chocolate Frog card featuring Dumbledore."

Harry reached in the bag and one by one drew out the items she had mentioned. He laid them on the table and unfolded the brittle newspaper clipping. A 15-year-old Harry stared up at them, nervously arranging his bangs to try to cover his scar.

"Let me have the bag," said Ginny, taking it from him. "Now you tell me what's left in it."

Harry smiled. As he named things, Ginny pulled them from the bag and laid them on the table.. A 'Weasley is our King' button. A Canary Cream. Hermione's werewolf essay, written for Snape in 3rd year. A 'S.P.E.W." badge. A transcript of the prophecy, written in Hermione's neat cursive. Their O.W.L. results.

"You got a P in History of Magic?" laughed Ginny.

Harry put everything back in the bag and pocketed it, planning to show it to Ron and Hermione some day, and maybe even the Harrys. He and Ginny wandered around the castle companionably, peaking into empty classrooms and the teacher's lounge. They made it to the atrium of the Great Hall with thirty minutes to spare, and wandered together into the small trophy room.

"Oh, Harry," breathed Ginny as soon as they entered. Harry had been walking beside her but had stopped just past the doorway. His eyes were riveted on a painting that hung directly opposite the trophy case. It was a painting he had never seen before. The most remarkable thing about it, besides its subject matter, was that it was not, or didn't appear to be, magical. It was, instead, a portrait such as one would see in a Muggle museum. It was a portrait of Harry, captioned _"He fought until it was done."_

Harry took a tentative step closer to the painting. It was small by Hogwarts standards, not much larger than a window. The artist had depicted two people with bent heads holding Harry up after the final battle. Harry was looking up, eyes clear in a bruised face, robes torn and filthy, his battered arm held tight against his stomach and two wands clutched in his other hand. Behind him, the sun was rising over the distant hills. He stared at the painting, almost bewildered by its existence, noting how the Ron and Hermione in the painting were supporting him with their heads bent, determined to get him to safety despite his protests. And he remembered. Remembered precisely who he had seen at that exact moment depicted in the portrait.

"He was quite good, wasn't he?" whispered Ginny as she walked up to the portrait and studied the signature in the lower right corner. "He spent so many years watching you, Harry. It was inevitable that he would get it right."

"Dean," sighed Harry. He stepped up behind Ginny and put his hands on her shoulders. "Did you know about this?"

"No," she answered, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear. "He was quiet about his work, especially his painting."

They looked at the portrait together, Harry still standing behind Ginny with his hands on her shoulders. When she sighed at last and turned to leave, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.

"Guess we all have our ghosts," he muttered, thinking of Dean Thomas, his classmate and Ginny's fiancé, killed in a Muggle plane crash four years after graduation from Hogwarts. Dean had dated Ginny before Harry and Ginny dated during his 6th year. He always thought he would get back together with Ginny, when it was all over, but after what happened in the end, they had gone their separate ways, each seeking peace, wanting to forget instead of to remember. But he also thought that Ginny felt good in his arms now, and he quickly banished that thought as they made their way together to the Great Hall for lunch.


	8. Chapter 8

Several hours later, Ginny and Harry climbed inside a school carriage hitched to real horses for the ride back to Hogsmeade, courtesy of Charlie Weasley. He and his wife Chloe joined Harry and Ginny in the carriage as the well-trained horses needed no guidance and would go directly to Hogsmeade station, which was close enough to the Three Broomsticks.

"It was a good visit, then?" asked Charlie, eying them carefully.

"Yes, it was," said Harry. "The best I've had since . . ." He paused for a moment, considering, eyes focused out the window watching the gates of Hogwarts slide by. "Since I left, anyway," he finished, turning his gaze back to Charlie.

"Did you know about the portrait?" Ginny asked suddenly. She'd been quiet the past hour or so, as she and Harry had strolled around the lake and then to the battle graveyard beneath the Weeping Willow.

Chloe and Charlie exchanged quick glances.

"Yes, I knew," he answered. "It's been there since two years after the battle, in fact. They say Abeforth Dumbledore commissioned it. It was hung without explanation or ceremony. People just sort of stumble upon it…."

"Like we did," murmured Harry.

"It's a beautiful piece of work," said Chloe softly. "He knew his subject matter well."

Ginny sighed and looked over at Harry, whose eyes had wandered once again to the window. The fact that Ginny had not been in that picture was telling. When Harry had faced Voldemort at the end, it was over Ginny's almost lifeless body. She'd been kidnapped by the Death Eaters and held by Voldemort until Harry, with Ron and Hermione by his side, had arrived to face the inevitable, in the Chamber of Secrets. By that time, only two pieces of Voldemort's soul were left—one in Voldemort's body, and one in the final horcrux, the snake Nagini.

"I'm going back to Paris in three weeks," she said without preamble. "Suppose we should have a going away party before I leave? Maybe on the 23rd?"

Harry jerked his head around and looked at her. A smile played at the corner of his mouth.

"That would be perfect," said Charlie. "Faculty meetings don't start 'til the 24th."

"Yes, perfect . . ." said Harry, still gazing at Ginny. "I can probably beg off a new assignment until then…"

"Then it's settled," she said. "A going away party on the 23rd of August."

The next few weeks passed quickly as Harry spent his mornings and afternoons reading the DADA books McGonagall had given him and preparing his lesson plans for all seven levels of students. He did a bit of shopping for new robes and school supplies and visited the Burrow at least two or three times a week, spending the late summer evenings playing Quidditch with the Harrys and whoever else joined in.

And he and Ginny visited Remus and Tonks. Remus Lupin taught Arithmacy at Hogwarts. The last of the Marauders, Lupin had married Auror Nymphadora Tonks a year after Voldemort's final defeat.

"Harry!" cried Lupin, giving his adopted godson a splendid hug and rubbing his head to mess up his hair. "What's this I hear about . . .?" He stopped suddenly and looked over at Ginny, but she laughed at him.

"I know all about Hogwarts, Remus, but no one else does, so keep it under your hat, will you?"

Remus gave Ginny a hug and kissed her cheek, welcoming them into his home. Tonks heard the door and ran into the living room, tripping over a throw rug and landing in Harry's arms.

"You're looking well, Harry," said Tonks when she regained her footing. She stared at him critically a moment.

"Of course I'm looking well," said Harry, blanching a bit under her scrutiny. As an Auror, she probably knew about his latest injury, and he didn't want the Weasleys to know how close he had come a few months ago to being "The Boy Who Died."

"It's all that Quidditch," said Remus, covering quickly for his wife. "To hear Arthur talk, you've all been on your brooms for a solid month now."

He gave Harry the quick once over and Harry knew that Tonks had told him too. He glanced over at Ginny but she seemed engaged in the study of a picture on the mantle.

On August 20th, he met up with most of the Weasley clan in Diagon Alley to purchase school supplies. As the boys and Marie sat together eating drippy ice cream cones, Harry examined their school supply lists.

"Looks like you've got nearly everything," he said, still scrutinizing the lists.

"Nearly?" said Ron's Harry, sighing deeply. "Not more robes, Uncle Harry! Wouldn't mind another peak in Flourish and Botts, though…"

Harry laughed. "No more robes, Harry. When I said 'nearly' it was because I don't see any of you carrying cages, and it says right here that first years are allowed a pet—an owl, toad or a cat."

The Harrys were quite clever boys, and all had enough experience with Uncle Harry to know exactly where he was going with this line of conversation.

"Yes!" said Fred's Harry, punching a fist in the air. "An owl! Let's go!"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute . . ." said their honorary uncle, leaning in to talk with them conspiratorially. "I'll get you _each_ an owl if you promise me one thing . . ."

They laughed when he whispered the condition, and all agreed immediately to his proposition.

An hour later, Harry led the boys and Marie back to the Leaky Cauldron to meet the rest of the Weasleys. Each child carried an identical cage. Each cage contained an owl, fortunately of different colors and sizes.

"Oh, Harry, you didn't!" protested George's Daphne as her Harry plopped down in an empty chair between his dad and his brother, little Fred.

"Yes he did!" exclaimed her son as he plopped the owl down on the table. "And guess what I named him?"

"Hedwig, right?" laughed George, peering in at the white and gray speckled owl.

"Nope," said Harry. "I named him after Uncle Harry!"

"Don't tell me," sighed Fred, looking intently at his nephew. He looked around from boy to boy, all of them grinning from ear to ear. "You _all_ named your owls 'Harry,' didn't you?" Then his eyes rested on Marie.

"How about you?" he said, turning to his niece, who had quite a smug look on her face.

"Oh, mine's a girl!" she said, so smoothly that her Uncle Harry was quite proud. "Her name's Harriett! Harriett Screecher."

Shopping done, most of the Weasleys headed to their various homes by apparating or by floo. He and Ginny were the last to leave, nursing their Butterbeers and enjoying the unusual quiet.

"Well, then, see you in a few days," said Ginny as she stood and dropped a sickle tip on the table for the barkeep.

"For your going away party. Right," said Harry. "Convenient time to have one, don't you think?"

"What?" she asked innocently. "Do you think it's unusual to have a going away party right before someone ….er….goes away?"

"Depends on which someone, I guess," he said a bit coyly, standing up to help her with her bags.

"Oh…I see," she said. "You think I'm setting you up, don't you? So that you'll have a chance to tell everyone your news before you leave on the 24th. That's it, isn't it?"

"Well, aren't you?" he asked, beginning to feel less sure of himself.

"Maybe," she said simply. "Or maybe I just want to see you once more before you leave."

And with that statement, she turned and walked toward the fire place. She threw in a handful of floo powder, said "The Burrow" and was gone in a flash of green. Harry was left holding one of her shopping bags. He looked down at it curiously. Pink. "Madam Malkin's Intimate Apparel" was written in glittery cursive on the side. Damn! "Ginny!" With a sigh and a crack, he followed her.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry Potter, new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was nervous. He stood now in his staff robes in the room off the Great Hall that he'd been taken to when the Goblet of Fire spat out his name all those years ago. The other faculty members milled about, chatting and munching on appetizers. Even Professor Snape…_Severus_…stood casually talking with Charlie Weasley, holding a goblet of pumpkin juice spiked with fire whiskey. Snape had been civil enough to him. They'd settled their individual scores years before, when in the end Snape's loyalties were laid bare, though Harry suspected they had so little in common they would never quite be friends. No, what made Harry so nervous was that the students were arriving.

Telling the Weasleys had gone well. He'd managed it at the end of Ginny's going away party, once the children had gone up to bed and only the adults remained in the parlor and the kitchen. He'd been sitting on one end of the couch, crowded out by a lounging Ron and Hermione, when Ginny had come over and wedged herself between him and Ron.

"So," she had said quite loudly. "Have they given you another assignment yet, Harry? Do you know where you'll be working next?"

A dozen or more pairs of eyes turned toward him.

"Yeah," said Ron, suddenly looking a bit puzzled. "I was wondering about that. You've been lazing about for almost a month now… That's a bit long, even after a hardship assignment."

Harry cleared his throat.

"Well, you see," he started, giving Ginny the evil eye, "I've actually . . .er . . . well, I've actually taken a different job."

"A different job?" repeated Ginny, pretending to be amazed. "What kind of job?"

"Yeah, what kind of job?" repeated Fred. He and George were both looking at Ginny, not Harry.

"Ginny knows," said George with a wicked smile. "How long have you known, Ginny-kins?"

Ginny feigned ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" she exclaimed. "This is the first I've heard of it. Harry?"

"Well, you see," said Harry. "I'm taking a teaching job. Temporarily anyway. Might not be permanent."

"A teaching job?" repeated Charlie. "A teaching job . . . . where?" He had already sorted through it, and the smile on his face made it easier for Harry to continue.

"At Hogwarts," he said. "There was an unexpected vacancy."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Hermione, quite slowly.

Harry only nodded.

"And head of Gryffindor House," he added. He thought that was particularly important in this crowd.

"Yes!" said Ron exuberantly. Suddenly, to Harry's great surprise, Ron was hugging him. He let him go and gave Hermione a high five while Molly and the rest of the family had their turn with him. Finally, Hermione gave him a bear hug.

"After all these years, you're finally going home," she said into his ear. "It's about time."

But all that support from his family didn't make the butterflies in his stomach go away now. He was pulling on his shirt collar nervously when Minerva stuck her head in the door and said "The first years are in the atrium. Let's move!"

Harry pushed his bangs over his forehead, wanting desperately now to hide his telltale scar.

"Potter," said Snape, attempting his classic sneer. "No need to cover it up. They'll know your face if I'm not mistaken. I hear they're talking about putting it on the new galleons . . ."

Harry looked up at him in shock, which caused Snape to start chuckling, albeit in an evil, menacing way.

"You're _such_ an easy mark, Potter," he said, wiping his eyes. "But I would suggest keeping your hood up until the sorting is over. Your presence will distract the students. Come on, let's go eat."

The faculty filed to their places. Harry sat two seats to the left of the Headmistress, between Remus Lupin and Charlie Weasley. The older students were already at their house tables. Since Professor Flynn's departure was not well-known, and Harry was the only new teacher this year, the students weren't paying too much attention to the faculty, using the time to reacquaint themselves with friends after a long summer. Harry kept his hood up as Snape had suggested, though he thought it must look quite odd. When the first years started to file into the hall, led by an especially jubilant and buoyant Abeforth Dumbledore carrying a stool and wearing the sorting hat, the students' eyes focused on the front. Fortunately, Harry was seated on the opposite side of the stool.

And so began the sorting. Even before they got to the Ws, Harry had noticed an inordinate number of Harrys being sorted into various houses. Harry Boot had made it into Ravenclaw, and Harry Jamison into Hufflepuff. He thought he'd even seen a girl Harry, but figured he had to have been mistaken.

When the first Harry Weasley was called, the four boys stood looking at each other, then at Professor Dumbledore.

"Oh, I am sorry indeed," said the old man with a laugh. He repeated, "Harry Percival Weasley."

H.P. came forward and plopped down on the stool, dropping the hat on his head with confidence. It had hardly touched his forehead when it shouted "GRYFFINDOR" and the house table cheered madly.

"Harry Lionel Weasley," was called next. "GRYFFINDOR" the hat shouted, and H.L. ran to join his cousin, smiling back at the last two Harrys, who still looked quite nervous.

The next two Harry Weasleys, to no one's surprise, also became Gryffindors, though the hat took longer with H.A., who appeared to be having an argument with it. But in the end, it shouted out Gryffindor, and the sorting came to an end.

Then came the feast. It was as least as good as he remembered—probably better. Harry ate with gusto, talking amiably with his coworkers and trying to ignore the chatter of the students.

Finally, the dishes and food disappeared and Minerva McGonagall stood to address the students.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she began. Harry was sure her voice was much warmer than it had ever been when he was in school. "We look forward to another fine year, though I suspect that Gryffindor House will not be any more peaceful with four more Weasleys in it." There was a smattering of laughter, and the Gryffindor table cheered. "I have a few announcements. First of all, the Forbidden Forest remains Forbidden. Any student caught alive in the Forbidden Forest will be faced with dire punishment. Any student found dead in the Forbidden Forest will be fed to the giant Squid." She had been making a joke, but no one laughed. Sighing, she went on. "I would also like to announce that this year, we will re-institute the Hogwarts Alumni Quidditch League. Four teams made up of Hogwarts graduates, one team of graduates from each house, will challenge our four house teams in a special tournament in October. That means more Quidditch games to play and to watch." There were great cheers from the tables, and even Harry smiled, wondering if he would be disqualified from playing for the alum team.

"Finally, it is my sad duty to inform you that Professor Flynn will not be returning to us this year. As his resignation came rather late in the summer, we did not have time to update the faculty information in your school letters. Joining us this year to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts is Mr. Harry Potter. Professor Potter."

Harry had pushed his hood back during her introduction. Now, feeling a sudden burst of Gryffindor courage, he stood and bowed slightly to the students, then sat back down.

The clapping started slowly but soon grew to a clamor then a roar as the student body as a whole stood up, pushing back benches and chairs, craning to get a better look at their new instructor.

"That's enough, enough," said Minerva after a moment, though she had beamed at Harry already as if to tell him "I told you so." "Mr. Potter, as you know, attended Hogwarts in the '90s and went on to a successful Quidditch career with the Chudley Cannons. He then began his career as an Auror, and is currently 'on loan' to us from the Ministry of Magic. Professor Potter will be taking over Professor Flynn's duties as Head of Gryffindor House as well . ."

The roar from the Gryffindor table was enormous. Harry saw at least two of the Harrys, eyes wide, jumping up and down on the benches and clapping.

"And now, without further preamble, let us rise and sing the school song." She waved her wand and the lyrics, which Harry had never quite mastered despite having heard the song at least five times (why they sang it only during the Welcoming Feast he now understood). The students erupted in song, each singing his or her own tune. There was mad cheering when they were finished, then McGonagall dismissed the students. As the hall began to empty, the faculty stood.

"Come on Potter, best get it over with," said Snape as he passed behind Harry's chair.

"Get what over with?" asked Harry. As far as he knew, he was free until the morning.

"New tradition of McGonagall's," said Snape smoothly. He was clearly enjoying this. "Didn't she tell you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure if he believed Snape. He shook his head.

"Heads of House address the students in their common rooms after the Welcoming Feast. I believe," he drawled, "that we're supposed to put the fear of God in them somehow. Never works with my house, of course." With a swirl of his cape, he was gone out the door and Harry looked around for McGonagall for confirmation.

"Come on, Harry," said Professor Sprout as she hurried past him.

Harry followed her, letting out a big sigh as he made his way through the familiar hallways.


	10. Chapter 10

The first few weeks of term flew by. Harry was kept busy with classes, including his "apprenticeship" in Abeforth's First Year History of Magic Class. He found he enjoyed teaching the first years the most. He also found that his fame extended far beyond the bounds he had previously mentally drawn around it. Though he realized that most in the wizarding community knew his name, what he looked like and what he had done when he was only one and again when he was not quite 18, he didn't realize the extent of their admiration. When he finally sat down to count, he found that he was teaching no fewer than 15 Harrys in first through third years. He also had six Rons and four Hermiones.

The students seemed a bit afraid of him at first, or at least awed, but his direct teaching method, focusing on the practical and logical art of defense, soon won their trust. And with the trust came the questions and requests which at first had been suppressed behind their nervousness.

The most frequent request was to see his scar. Over time, Harry had allowed his hair to grow longer so that his unruly bangs hung low and covered his scar completely. Behind his hair, the scar was just as prominent as ever, an ever-lasting reminder of Voldemort's personal effect on his life. When he received this request, he always gamely pushed aside his hair and gave the students their fill. The next question was inevitably:

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore," he would always answer. And it didn't. The scar had not so much as tingled since that final meeting when the pain had temporarily blinded and crippled him.

There were other questions that were predictable, usually about his years with the Chudley Cannons or his adventures in breaking the rules at Hogwarts. Those were the easy questions. The hard questions sometimes were subtle, and sometimes were not.

"What does it feel like to kill someone?"

"How many students died during the war?"

"Tell us about the 'Boy Who Died'."

Harry managed to get through most of the questions, but occasionally he'd just smile and turn his back on the students, writing something on the board. When he turned back around, he was all business again and though the question still hung silently in the air, he ignored its presence and went on with the lesson.

September passed and toward the end of the month, Charlie Weasley knocked on his office door after his last class.

"Come in," he called from his desk where he was reading 6th year essays.

Charlie walked in, surveying the classroom curiously as he made his way to Harry's desk.

"It's September 20h, Harry," he said.

Harry looked up. "Go on . . ."

"I've been named Captain of the Gryffindor Alumni Quidditch Team."

Harry smiled and put down the essay he was reading. He stood up and reached out to shake Charlie's hand. "That's great news, Charlie! So as captain, you get to pick your team, eh?"

"Right," said Charlie. "So . . .you up for a go at it?"

"Professional players aren't banned?" questioned Harry, running his hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual.

Charlie put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "So you're a professional player, are you, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "Well, no, I guess I'm not, Charlie. But with you on the team it looks like Gryffindor already has a Seeker."

Charlie shrugged. "Captain doesn't have to play. My job is to recruit the best team possible and lead us to glorious victory. You in?"

"In," said Harry with a smile. "I'd forgotten all about the tournament. When are we practicing? And who else do you have pegged for the team?"

"Well, it will depend on who I manage to convince to devote four weekends in October to Quidditch," Charlie answered. "And as for the _who_, I'm planning on Fred and George as beaters and Wood for Keeper."

Harry frowned. Ron had played Keeper for two years.

"Don't worry about Ron," said Charlie. "I've already talked to him and he suggested Wood. We get to have alternates so Ron's in for backup and he's going to co-captain with me."

"And chasers?" said Harry. Quidditch always put a peculiar itch in his blood. He thought longingly of his old Firebolt. He had a series of brooms since his Firebolt, mostly the stealth models preferred by Aurors, but the Firebolt held a special place in his heart.

"Ahh," said Charlie. "There are a couple of good possibilities from the last five years. Katie Bell's younger sister, for one. Katie's pregnant or I'd ask her. Kid named Oliver Mason—he's at the Ministry now. And . . . well, how about Ginny?"

Harry perked up. Charlie didn't miss his interest, though he tried very hard to be casual in his response.

"But she's in Paris, Charlie. You think she'd made the trip four weekends in a row?"

Charlie grinned. "You haven't heard then, eh?"

"Heard what?" asked Harry, a little too quickly.

"Ginny's back. Finagled a job transfer to London. She got back a few days ago. She's staying at the Burrow while she looks for a new place."

Harry's face had lit up. "No one told me," he said. "And I just heard from Ron and Hermione last week."

"No one knew," replied Charlie. "She showed up a few days ago and nearly knocked Mum's socks off. Funny how it works—she left home when you became an Auror and now that you're at Hogwarts, she's coming back home."

Harry smiled. "Coincidence," he said, hoping Charlie wasn't reading more into it than was there and briefly wondering it is really was a coincidence. "Well, the team sounds great." He sat down on the edge of his desk. "Practice here at Hogwarts, I assume?"

"Tentatively scheduled for Saturday," answered Charlie. "Gryffindor is up first—8 a.m. so get a good night's sleep Friday. We get two practice runs this Saturday and two the following. The games start the first Saturday in October."

Charlie left a few minutes later and Harry sat back down and picked up an essay. He tried reading it, but felt like a teenager again, butterflies in his stomach as he thought of Quidditch. Quidditch practice Saturday. Quidditch practice . . . with Ginny. He was beginning to realize how the thought of spending time with Ginny affected him. It left him nervous and breathless. Like Quidditch. He wondered if he should be worried.

At 7:30 on Saturday morning, Harry shouldered his Firebolt _Stealth 2000_ model and made his way to the front stairs. He sat down and waited for the rest of the team—they'd be coming from Hogsmeade—and while he waited he stared quietly at the golden Phoenix on the pedestal before him. The clip-clop of horse hoofs startled him a moment later, and he quickly got to his feet and walked toward the approaching carriage, a grin plastered on his face.

A tangle of legs, arms and mainly red heads appeared through the carriage doors when Charlie jumped down and opened them as the nine people inside extracted themselves and their brooms and jumped to the ground. Fred and George gave Harry high fives and grinned maliciously. "Never thought I'd play here again," said Fred. "Not after how we left this place…." George laughed and they strolled over to the memorial while the rest of the team disentangled themselves and left the carriage. Ron jumped out next and grinned at Harry as he stood back to make room for the others. Oliver Wood, looking slightly roughed up, greeted Harry with a handshake and a thump on the shoulder, then turned and offered his hand to a young witch who looked quite a bit like her sister, Katie Bell. Allie Bell introduced herself to Harry and practically beamed up at him as she pumped his hand and told him how she couldn't wait to see him fly. "I've been walking on air since Charlie owled me," she said gleefully.

Ginny stumbled out next, looking quite cross as she tried to smooth the bent twigs in her broom. Harry eyed the broom, noticing it was the same model as his. Odd. Why would Ginny . . . ? She gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek followed by a hug. Ron, who was facing Harry a few feet away, raised his eyebrows and Harry shrugged innocently. A small, solid man of about 25, Oliver Mason, jumped down next. Harry was surprised to see that there were two more people inside. They first alit with a big smile and a hug for Harry.

"Angelina! I didn't know . . ." he said, returning her hug.

"Just here as an alternate," she said. "I couldn't commit to every weekend but the twins convinced me to come." The last was Nymphadora Tonks.

"Tonks!" he exclaimed as she tripped over her broom and landed in Oliver Mason's arms.

"Er, sorry," he said, setting her upright and letting go of her quickly.

Charlie gathered the team and they shouldered their brooms and began to march across the grounds to the Quidditch Pitch. It was a carefree group, though Oliver Mason and Allie Bell seemed a bit overwhelmed surrounded by people of such . . . stature. Indeed, when they were in Gryffindor House, many of the people they were now chatting so amiably with were already legend. In fact, Gryffindor House had adopted the "Weasley is Our King" song into a type of cheer and still used it all these years after the original Weasleys had graduated from Hogwarts.

The team was quite surprised to find that the pitch was not entirely empty at this time of the morning on a Saturday. Instead, the stands were practically half-filled.

"What's this about?" said Fred as he looked up toward the red banner with the gold lion atop the stadium.

Charlie looked a bit apologetic. "Guess I should have warned you all. Just pretend that they're not there. I expect we'll be a bit rusty at first…"

"Charlie…." said Ron in a threatening voice. "Who _are_ all these people?"

"Mainly students," he answered casually. His back was turned as he heaved the ball case on its side and opened it.

"_Mainly_ students?" said Ginny.

The bludgers were already straining against the straps as Charlie turned back to the team.

"They remember us," said George lovingly, picking up his bat and throwing the second one to his twin.

"Who, the bludgers or the students?" asked Harry, nervously eying the crowd.

"The bludgers, of course," answered George.

"OK, look," said Charlie. "It's like this. The practice schedule and teams are posted in the atrium. There's been quite a bit of excitement about the Gryffindor team. Two former professional Quidditch players, after all, not to mention the Weasley twins and Gin-Gin."

"Don't call me that!" said Ginny, her eyes narrowed as she gazed at her brother, hands on her hips.

"Don't you like to be called that, Gin-Gin?" teased Ron. She threw the quaffle at him. He dodged it and Oliver Mason scooped it up, shooting it over to Angelina.

"Anyway…" continued Charlie loudly. "Quite a few of the faculty members planned to turn out, as well as some other officials…."

"_Other _officials? How did I miss all this, Charlie?" asked Harry. "I'm a teacher here. No one told me about this!"

"Well, they wouldn't now, would they?" said Charlie with a wink. "Everyone knows you can be a little . . . uh . . . .media shy. Didn't want to scare you off."

"_Media Shy!_" exclaimed Harry. Several of his friends were suppressing grins behind their hands. Ginny, however, was laughing outright.

"You should see your ears, Harry!" she exclaimed through her laughter. "You look like a proper Weasley now!"

"Well, if it's a story they're after, let's give them something to write about," he said, an evil grin spreading over his face. "Race you to the goal rings!"

He mounted his broom but Ginny was a step ahead of him. She pushed off before him just as Charlie let the bludgers and golden snitch loose. While Harry pursued Ginny, Fred, George and Tonks took off after the bludgers and the chasers followed, tossing the Quaffle back and forth in moves that looked completely orchestrated and not one bit rusty. Wood, Ron and Charlie pulled the rear, flying lazily as the crowd erupted in cheers.

Harry managed to overtake Ginny just before the rings. Her green robes were flying behind her and he managed to get a handful of them right before he passed her, throwing them over her head as he threaded the needle and came back alongside her as she slowed to disentangle herself. She pretended to be mad but Harry could tell she wasn't. He tweaked her nose and flew off to find the snitch while she looked after him, a strange, quite puzzled look in her eyes.

They soon forgot about the crowd, which had grown even more, and settled down into the business of playing Quidditch. Charlie put them through drills and aerial maneuvers. The chasers practiced formation flying and choreographed passing while the beaters wove in and out of them. Harry saw the snitch 20 minutes into the practice and captured it readily. The crowd erupted in chants of "POT-TER! POT-TER!" as Harry flew into the team huddle. It has been 6 years since his professional Quidditch days. This was heaven. The wind in his hair, the golden snitch, the roar of the crowd . . .

"OK, that was too easy, Harry," said Charlie as the team hovered above the pitch. "Ginny, this time you play seeker too. We'll pit you two against each other to see if it makes things a bit more interesting."

Ginny and Harry exchanged looks. Challenging looks.

"Right," said Harry.

"Let's go then," said Ginny, hunkering down on her broom.

"Nice broom, Ginny," said Harry, looking it over with an experienced eye.

Ginny appeared nonchalant. "Oh, this piece of junk?"

Harry handed the snitch over to Charlie. Charlie flew to the middle of the pitch and released it while Harry and Ginny played bombard the keeper with the rest of the team. In this practice drill, the keeper single-handedly defends all three rings while the players shoot three Quaffles at him. Wood did admirably well. The crowd was counting his saves, chanting in unison. "FOUR . . . . FIVE . . . . SIX . . . . .OHHHHH! . . . . . SEVEN . . ." At ten, Charlie stopped the drill and started a scrimmage and Harry and Ginny flew off in search of the snitch.

Harry kept his eye on Ginny for the next 30 minutes as he meticulously searched the air for the Golden Snitch. She hadn't played Seeker often, but she was still good and had a sharper eye than he did, though she lacked the speed and finesse needed in a head to head race. When he finally saw the Snitch, he glanced her way to note, to his surprise, that she was already on its tail, but from a further distance away. Still, he high-tailed it, slightly ahead of her when they reached midfield. The snitch was still hovering close to the ground, and in another moment he had it in his hand. He slowed instantly, checking his broom speed quickly and automatically beginning his trademark dismount, the one he always used when he was this close to the ground. The Potter Stall was accomplished by slowing the broom to a crawl from a high velocity then flipping over the handle with one arm still holding the broomstick. You hit the ground running, raising the broom in the air with one hand and the snitch in the other. _Everyone_ knew that move. Even Ginny.

The problem was that Ginny had never actually been tailing him by mere meters when he'd performed it.

The result on this particular day was that he slowed to a crawl directly in front of a barreling Ginny. She recognized what he was going to do too late, attempting to pull up and out anyway. Harry felt all the air leave his lungs as something huge bowled him over. He was pretty sure he heard screaming before the lights went out.


	11. Chapter 11

"Harry?" Someone was talking to him, someone very far away. Something touched his face and he reflexively tried to push it away. He groaned as pain shot up his arm into his shoulder.

"Give him air!" shouted another voice. "Get back. He's moving. He'll be fine. Just got the wind knocked out of him."

"Harry!" The voice above him was insistent.

"Oh, bludgers!" exclaimed someone else. Harry finally found his breath again, inhaling sharply then instinctively trying to roll over on his side and push himself up.

"Ooof!" He had made it to his side but his attempt to put weight on his arm had not gone off well.

"It's broken again," sighed the first voice, which he now recognized as Ginny's. She supported him as Ron and Wood pushed him to a seated position from behind.

"What did you go and do the Potter Stall for, Harry?" grimaced Charlie from somewhere in the throng of people around him. "This is only practice for Merlin's sake. No need to show off here!" Harry's eyes were beginning to focus again and he was fairly sure there weren't this many people on the team. Where had all the extra people come from?

"Instinct," he said at last. "Not showing off . . .Ouch!"

"Take him to the hospital wing," suggested Angelina from somewhere behind him. "We've got another practice this afternoon."

"Where's Lockhart when you need him?" said George.

"No . . ." Harry tried to hold his arm against him. He was beginning to think his shoulder was dislocated too. Then there was that annoying pain square in the middle of his back where Ginny's broom had initially tried to impale him…. Merlin was her broom fast! What was she doing with such a fast broom?

"Thrilling!" said a new voice as Fred and George hauled Harry to his feet, supporting him on either side. "What a show! Haven't seen anything like that at Hogwarts before, to be sure!"

"Hello, Ludo," said Harry rather quietly as the Head of the Magical Games department approached him with his arm outstretched. "Excuse me if I don't shake your hand."

Bagman dropped his hand, only momentarily chagrinned.

"Got it all on film!" he exclaimed. "I was sitting in the press box myself when you started your dive. Never saw you bowled over by a female seeker before, Potter."

Harry stared at Bagman in disbelief. He was standing on the Quidditch Pitch with a bloody nose and a broken arm and Bagman was ribbing him about being smashed into by a girl! And since when had there been a press box at Hogwarts?

"Come on Harry," said Ginny, shooting Bagman the evil eye. "Let's get you up to Madam Pomfrey. You'll need to rest up before afternoon practice."

A few random flashes went off and the crowd cheered as Harry left the field, still supported by the twins, with Ginny leading the way carrying both her broom and Harry's.

Well-wishing students called out to them as they passed.

"Great dismount, Professor Potter!"

"Fantastic flying!"

Madam Pomfrey tutted over him as was expected, telling them all that they were much too old for this sort of thing and really should pay more attention to their health and well-being. Ginny waited with Harry while the twins returned to finish out practice. Madam Pomfrey, with her years of practice with broken bones, had Harry's arm repaired and shoulder re-located in a snap.

"Any more complaints?" she asked as she moved his arm around and he satisfied her by not screaming in pain.

"Well..." he began, glancing at Ginny.

"What?" said Ginny, narrowing her eyes at Harry. He thought that was quite funny and tried to hide a smile.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" said Madam Pomfrey.

"Well, it's my back—where Ginny's broom tried to skewer me. Could you do something for the bruising, as long as I'm here anyway?"

"Of course, of course. Kindly remove your shirt and I'll see to it right away."

"You sure you want to see this?" asked Harry as he wiggled his arms out of his pullover and began to pull it slowly over his head, wincing as he did so.

He had realized the double entendre of his words at the precise moment his shirt had covered his face. So he had no way of seeing the surprised look on Ginny's face, nor her silent assessment as his well-formed stomach and chest appeared.

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. Ginny hurried around the bed to get a look at Harry's back.

"Oh bludgers!" she exclaimed. "You've got a knot on your back the size of an orange, Harry!"

Madam Pomfrey made him lie in bed for another hour before she released him and pronounced him fit to practice in the afternoon. He wanted to remind her that he wasn't a student anymore and could make his own self-assessments, but something in her nature prevented him from stepping in. After all, she seemed very concerned about him. She had been what amounted to his personal physician for all his years at Hogwarts. She'd been there for him at the end, just after the scene depicted so eloquently by Dean Thomas, taking him into her already weary arms and soothing away the burns and the cuts before sending him into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

It was almost lunch time when she finally let him leave the ward. Ginny had waited patiently on a chair at his bedside, chatting amiably with him as he tried not to focus on the freckles on the bridge of her nose.

_Sister sister sister_! he kept reminding himself. She's Ron's sister, practically my sister. I've never thought of her like that before…. Still, when Madam Pomfrey allowed him to get up, he reached out for Ginny's hand and she helped him stand. She then helped him put on his pullover and adjusted it, reaching up instinctively to smooth his mussed hair back down.

Her hand paused as it touched his hair. He was eyeing her strangely, staring down at her with an odd look in his wide green eyes. She recovered quickly and brushed some imaginary grass out of his hair.

"There, all better," she said with a brightness that didn't quite match the darkness in her eyes.

In answer, he enveloped her in his arms and gave her a hug that started out as quite brotherly in intent but lasted a few seconds too long to remain in that category. "Thanks, Ginny," he whispered before he ended the hug, but not before hearing her sharp intake of breath. He must have imagined it. He must have.

They went down to the Great Hall for lunch. The Ravenclaw Alumni Quidditch team had the Pitch at 11:30, and Harry was surprised to run into Cho Chang in the atrium. She was on the arm of a burly wizard he didn't recognize, but she greeted him warmly and extended her hand to Ginny.

"I didn't realize you two were together," she said with a big smile. "I guess _Witch Weekly_ will have to get itself another most eligible bachelor now!" She turned away before they could set her straight and as she disappeared out the front doors, they turned to each other.

"You know she's a reporter for the _Prophet_, don't you?" asked Harry.

Ginny hit her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"Well go tell her then, Harry!" she said, pushing him toward the door almost frantically.

A devilish grin spread over his face.

"No," he said firmly. "I rather like it this way. Let's see how fast it travels. My guess is that by Monday your mum will read about Harry Potter's new love in the morning _Prophet._"

For some reason, Ginny was not amused. She hurried after Cho and stopped her just outside the castle doors. Harry followed, curious. What had gotten Ginny so riled up?

"…just very good friends. I'm actually seeing someone in Paris where I've been working for five years . . . .wouldn't want Franc to read about me in the _Prophet_…."

When Ginny rejoined him a moment later, he looked at her curiously.

"Seeing someone in Paris, eh?"

"You know I said that to put her off, Harry," said Ginny with a sigh.

"Why? Don't want your name in the paper as the girl who just knocked me unconscious so she'd get to see me with my shirt off?"

"If you think that's why I . . I . . . you're incorrigible!" she exclaimed, noticing the gleam in his eyes. "You're teasing me, Harry! I am not a little girl anymore!"

A blaze of Gryffindor courage rose in him. He looked at her appraisingly.

"I noticed."

They locked eyes.

His hand came up to rest on her side. "And you're not really my little sister."

"Good thing, that," she said, looking away from him and down at the floor, a pretty blush rising on her face.

But the conversation was destined to stop there, for the front doors were flung open as the Gryffindor Alumni Quidditch team pounded in, followed and surrounded by the Gryffindor students.

"Harry! All put back together, I take?" exclaimed Angelina.

"Get a few hours rest now," said Charlie, immediately taking in the rather surprised look on both his sister's and Harry's faces. "We'll be scrimmaging with the Gryffindor school team at 4 p.m."

"Oliver is our king, Oliver is our king, He did not let the Quaffle in, Oliver is our king!" sang the Gryffindors. They had tried to carry him back to school on their shoulders, as was customary after a win, but he was a large, burly man. Instead, one of the 7th years had put a rather complicated weightlessness charm on him, and they were pulling him around on a rope as if he were a large parade balloon. Oddly, he seemed to be enjoying the attention.

The Gryffindor alumni took their place at the end of the Gryffindor table, with Harry explaining how the seating arrangements had changed since their days at Hogwarts. He had found himself sitting directly across from Ginny, and could stare at her freely, as she had been drawn into a conversation on Chasing with Oliver Mason and Allie Bell.

"Hello? Harry?" Ron, who was sitting two places down from Ginny, stared intently at his friend. "Quit staring at Ginny like that. You're giving me the jeebies."

Instantly, Fred and George were on it.

"Staring at Gin-Gin again, eh?" said George.

"Ickle Ginny-kins is all grown up, isn't she Harry?" whispered Fred.

Harry glared malevolently at Fred and George and was mercifully saved by the sudden appearance of a veritable feast on the table in front of them.

"Yes!" exclaimed Ron, reaching for a turkey leg. Even Fred and George were temporarily distracted by the sheer quantity of food. The team was soon filling their plates and talking excitedly.

"I feel 17 again," said Tonks with her mouth full. She grinned at Harry. "And I'm not _that _much older than you, Mr. Potter, so wipe that smirk off your face!"

"Heck, Tonks, you look 17 again," said Fred. Tonks, a metamorphagus, was sporting longish pink hair and a cute button nose.

The afternoon scrimmage was, by far, the most fun Harry had ever had on the Quidditch Pitch. The Gryffindor House team made up in daring what they lacked in experience and finesse. Their Seeker, a fifth-year boy named Zach Carson, unabashedly settled on a strategy of tailing Harry wherever he went. Another large crowd had gathered to watch the round and cheered vehemently for the younger team. Cheering or not, the alums were ahead 170-60 when Harry caught the snitch forty-five minutes into the scrimmage.

An hour and a half later, they gathered in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade for an after-match drink.

"First round's on me!" exclaimed Wood and a few minutes later, a variety of drinks, from Butterbeer to Fire Whiskey to something pink with a little paper umbrella, were spread around the table.

As the drinks were downed, the group scooted over to make room for the occasional faculty member who joined them. Abeforth Dumbledore was the first to appear, squeezing in between Fred and George. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch referee, joined them next. By the time they had started their third round, the group of ten had expanded to 16.

Harry spent most of the evening listening to his friends, new and old, and drinking whatever landed in front of him. He had a perpetual smile on his face and tried his best not to sit there smiling stupidly at Ginny. He thought he caught her smiling back at him more than once, and when they finally called it quits and the visitors queued up to floo back to their homes, he gave her an awkward hug.

"It was good seeing you today, Harry," she said. "Next week then?"

He swore he saw her wink as she disappeared in the surge of green flames.


	12. Chapter 12

More drinks, more winks, but no action between Harry and Ginny. For some reason, the just-under-the-surface sexual tension of the first practice day had been replaced by a slightly-awkward camaraderie. All the time was occupied by Quidditch, and there were no opportunities to get her away alone. By the last weekend of October, when the championship game was held, the Gryffindor Alumni team was counting the days 'til the end. The wives and husbands had quickly become fed up with the late weekend nights at the Three Broomsticks. The players, faced with competition against their peers as well as teenagers from Hogwarts, found the job at hand tougher than their first scrimmage. In the end, however, it came down to an age-old rivalry between the Gryffindor Alumni and the Slytherin Alumni teams.

The last game was held on Halloween. It started at noon and at 4:30 p.m. finally ended with Harry catching the Snitch, putting the Gryffindor team over the top by a mere 10 points.

The celebration was jubilant. The Gryffindor team launched themselves at Harry after he executed a picture perfect Potter Stall, dismounting precisely in the middle of the Pitch with the Golden Snitch held high in his right hand and his broom in his left. The team then flew to the faculty seats, where Professor McGonagall waited with the new Silver Alumni Quidditch Cup. Wood accepted then impulsively kissed Minerva McGonagall on the lips. A flash went off. The team then posed together for the _Daily Prophet_ photographer before returning to the Great Hall for the First Annual Student and Alumni Halloween Feast and Ball.

And it was at the Ball, on a dance floor with literally hundreds of people watching, not to mention reporters from all the major Wizarding rags, that Harry, while dancing with Ginny, made his first move. He didn't think that asking Ginny to dance really qualified as a "move." After all, he had danced with Allie, Angelina, Hermione, Professor Sprout and even Rita Skeeter. So by the time he found Ginny and stole her away from tiny Professor Flitwick (they'd been doing a lively two-step), they were both tired and had sore feet. As the band began a slow song, Harry held out his hand and Ginny smiled and kicked off her shoes. They relaxed into the music, Ginny resting her forehead against the smooth silk of Harry's best dress robes.

"Tired?" he asked as they spun slowly amid the other couples.

"Mmmm. Yes. Really tired."

"It was a great game."

She smirked. "Took you long enough to get the Snitch, Potter! I swear I have splinters in my bum!"

He took her hand and twirled her around.

"Well, they're not sticking out of your robes," he said with a smile.

The song ended and the band launched into something much faster. Harry, feeling like a schoolboy with a practiced line, suggested that they go out to the gardens for a breath of fresh air. He summoned her shoes and the two pushed their way through the throngs and headed toward the memorial courtyard.

It was turning 11, and the students were being sent back to their rooms. With their departure, a magical champagne fountain appeared in the atrium of the castle. Harry grabbed two glasses as they passed by and handed one to Ginny. They downed them in a quick toast with the other players milling about, then refilled them before heading outside.

It was unseasonably warm for the end of October and the sky was brilliantly clear. They sat down on one of the reflecting benches in the hero's memorial and Ginny groaned as her seat made contact with the bench.

"I'm too old for Quidditch," she said with a chuckle.

"You're never too old for Quidditch!" he protested. "You're good enough to make a career of it, Ginny," he added.

She looked at him a moment to see if he was joking. He wasn't. He had the brightest, most intense look in his eyes. She looked away, back at the doors of Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione had come out and were drinking champagne with Oliver Wood and his wife.

"I already have a career, Harry," she said. "I'm happy with what I do. But what about you?" she asked, changing the subject. "What are you going to do after this year at Hogwarts?" She looked over at him and he had the odd feeling that she didn't really want to hear his answer.

"I don't know, Gin," he said, glancing up at the castle stairs where Ron, Hermione and a few more of the Gryffindor team were still drinking champagne and laughing amicably. "I love it here, I really do. But I can't imagine not being an Auror anymore. I think I'd miss the adventure and the excitement."

Ginny smiled but the smile hardly made it to her eyes.

"And the danger?" she asked, turning to face him and holding his eyes with her own.

He looked into her eyes a moment, wondering what she was on about. But he couldn't lie. Not to Ginny.

"No," he sighed. "I won't miss the danger. I feel safe here at Hogwarts, safer than I've felt since I left here when I was 16. But safety isn't everything, Gin. I risk my life, sure. But I do it because I'm needed…because others need that web of safety around them, too."

Ginny was quiet a moment. She downed the last of her champagne then placed the glass gently on the bench beside her.

"So when will you make up your mind?" she asked.

"I've given myself 'til Christmas," he answered. "I told Minerva I'd let her know right after the holidays."

She sighed and stood up. The mood, whatever mood they had had when they left the castle and walked together on the grounds, was gone.

"Why, Gin?" he asked suddenly, grabbing her hand and pulling her over in front of him. "Do you want me to stay here?"

She stood still for a moment, then lifted her hand and rubbed his cheek with the back of her fingers.

"I want you to be happy, Harry. And I want you to be safe. But I'm not sure you can be both things at the same time."

"I'm happy right now," he said, grabbing her hand before she could let it fall and pressing her fingers to his lips. She sighed and he lowered his head toward her, drawn irrevocably closer by her simple gesture.

He squeezed her hand. Merlin but it was soft. He'd gotten to know her so much better these last two months. The strange tension that had arisen between them had eased as the weeks progressed and they'd focused their energies on Quidditch instead of on each other. Though she had seemed very interested in him at first, at least to his inexperienced mind, she had pulled back as the month progressed, reserved for a reason he didn't understand. But he still found himself looking at her when she wasn't watching him. He wondered if anyone else had noticed, but knew for a fact that her brothers were on to him. Curiously, none of them had warned him off. Ron, in fact, had thrown up his hands last week after Harry had hugged Ginny goodbye for a full minute.

"Get a room, why don't you?" he'd said lightly as he stepped into the fireplace to floo home.

As they stood there now under the stars, hands linked in companionable silence, Harry turned to Ginny. Somehow, he felt like it was now or never. _Gryffindor Courage_ he said to himself, steeling himself up for what he was determined to say.

"Ginny," he began. She raised her face. He continued. "I think.."

"Harry…." she said, as if something were on her mind.

"Don't," he said, quieting her. "Just once, let this happen."

He was looking down at her, and he saw the desire in her eyes. She tried to hide it and looked away, up toward their rowdy teammates on the castle stairs, but he reached out and turned her chin toward him, bending down to capture her lips.

His mouth closed on hers as he pulled her close. She held herself stiffly for a moment, then surrendered and he felt her arms come up to wrap around his shoulders. The kiss was wonderful, deep and searching, leaving him wanting so much more.

He broke the kiss off and a tiny moan escaped her as his lips traveled to the base of her neck.

"Harry," said Ginny. He protested as she pulled away from him. "We shouldn't. This isn't right."

"Not right?" he said, grabbing her wrist as she moved back another step. "What's not right?"

She looked up at him with an indecipherable look on her face. He couldn't tell if she was happy or sad, but decided that the two emotions were warring with each other.

"I….just can't. Not now. I…I may have to go back to Paris. Maybe as soon as Christmas."

"Paris?" he said, puzzled. "I thought you had come home. I thought you were happy here…"

"Sometimes you don't get to choose," she said. "They're calling me back. Mum doesn't want me to go but.."

"Your _Mum!_" protested Harry. "What about me? I don't want you to go either!"

Ginny looked at him with an indecipherable look in her eyes. He thought she looked angry. "Well maybe I didn't want you to go off and play Quidditch or become an Auror but you did! Don't tell me now that _you_ don't want me to go back to Paris. It's not like you're right across the yard up here at Hogwarts, you know. You go gallivanting off to Bulgaria, Romania, Brazil, Lichtenstein.."

_Brazil? How did she know about Brazil?_ He was covert in that operation.

She had stopped her quiet rant and was looking at him oddly.

"How did you know about Brazil?" he asked quietly. He was still holding her hand, and he moved his hand up to her elbow, to her upper arm.

"Dad let it slip," she answered quickly. "He made me swear I'd never tell. Please, Harry, don't let on…"

"What's going on, Gin?" he asked, not quite satisfied with her answer. "You _like_ me. I can tell. There's something here, something between us. Bigger than it was back when we were kids at Hogwarts. But you're taking a step back with every step forward!"

"Harry," she began, reaching her arms around him and drawing him into a tight hug. She held him that way for a moment, and he began to relax into her, letting his body meld against hers. This felt so right. How could she be holding back now?

"Harry," she repeated softly a minute later. She had moved her hands up to cradle his head, pushing his messy black hair out of his face.

"Gin.."

The corner of her mouth turned up and she quickly leaned in and kissed him.

"Let's wait until Christmas and see how it goes." She had that look again, that look he couldn't quite figure out. She looked, for all practical purposes, like she was hiding something, or trying to reconcile two opposing sides.

"Harry! Ginny! Group photos!" called Ron.

Harry leaned in and gave Ginny one more kiss, one which she returned with a guarded intensity he did not miss.

"'Til Christmas, then," he whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

November and December flew by. Harry volunteered to ride the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross Station with the students returning home for the holidays. He'd be able to escort the Harrys and Marie to the Burrow and serve as faculty moderator on the train to boot. He had to admit to himself that the prospect of riding the train again was exciting. Some of the best moments of his life were associated with the train—after all, he'd first met Ron and Hermione on that train 20 years ago.

The train left Hogsmeade Station at 11 a.m. on a blustery day that threatened to snow. And along with the train and the blustery wind went a shadow, hardly noticed and high above the train, stealthy and true to mark, keeping pace with the red engine and its billowing plumes of white smoke.

It was almost as Harry remembered it, though perhaps a little smaller. The train itself was shorter in December as only about half of the students elected to ride it home at holiday. The seven-hour train ride gave him ample time to chat with his nephews and niece, visit the various compartments to make the other students nervous and even sit with the trolley cart witch to play a game of exploding snap.

As darkness fell the train continued to slip through deserted, quiet countryside. Harry was making the rounds one last time. He'd walked to the rear of the train to start with the older students, checking each compartment then moving to the next. He had just entered the third car from the rear when the train began to slow down. _Early to be getting into the station,_ he thought, looking out the window and seeing no sign of London's lights. But the train picked up speed again and as he walked to the next door, the train swayed and jerked hard to the left, then to the right. Without thinking, Harry's auror persona kicked in and he immediately began casting shield charms around the trains' individual compartments, almost running from one to the next as the train continued to bounce and jerk. He heard screaming from the car ahead of him and somehow navigated the narrow passage between the car he was in and the next car, continuing to cast the shield spell as he ran forward. He passed the Harrys' compartment, encasing them in an impenetrable shield bubble as he ran. He got off two more spells before the train gave a final, miserable squeal and jerk and the car he was in tipped impossibly far to the left, skidding along the ground as it hit and smashing into the car in front of it before the whole train came to a slow, sickening, grinding halt.

Above the train, a figure on a broom continued a frantic descent toward the wreckage.

"Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!"

Somewhere on the edge of consciousness he thought he heard screaming. Something hurt.

"Help!"

"Mum!"

"Uncle Harry!"

"Professor Potter!"

He opened his eyes but all was dark.

"Lumos," he muttered. His wand had been thrown from his hand and it lit up brightly a few feet away from him.

"Accio wand," he forced out, opening his hand and stretching it toward the light. The wand leapt into his hand but the wandless magic left him even weaker. He was on his back and his right leg hurt like hell and his head felt heavy. His mind was fuzzy—he heard screaming still, and more noises. Grinding groans, as if the train was unsettled and was desperately seeking footing.

"Uncle Harry!"

This time there was movement to his left. A compartment door, facing the ground, was pushed open and someone stuck their head down into the compressed passageway..

"No, get back in the compartment," said Harry, trying to keep his voice even and calm.

"There's no other way out!" protested the boy. He seemed to be a fifth or sixth year.

"Evanesco," said Harry. The word was hard to force through the pain.

"Professor Potter? Are you OK?" The boy craned his head to get a better look at Harry.

"Evanesco," repeated Harry. "Vanish the window. You can do it. Point your wand at the window and vanish it. If that doesn't work, try 'Reducto' to blast a hole in it. Then find the head boy or girl, and the prefects. Some of them can apparate."

"You're bleeding," said the boy, looking scared. "There's something stuck in your leg…."

"I know," grunted Harry. "I'll be fine. Go on now…bring back help" The train swayed slightly as if rounding a corner too fast. He mustered up a last burst of energy to urge the boy along. "Come on, move!"

Thankfully, the boy and his friends in the compartment took him seriously. Harry closed his eyes and took a sharp intake of breath as pain shot through his leg into his hip and stomach. Whatever was sticking out of his leg caught on the metal wall of the train he was lying on. He stifled a cry of pain.

Outside there were more shouts. And _cracks. _The noise level increased over the next few minutes and he heard, finally, the amplified voice of an adult shouting directions to the children trapped in the compartments on the car he was in.

"One at a time! Wait for your window to vanish . . . Anyone hurt in there? Ankle? Sit back down, then. Healer!"

Harry closed his eyes. Somewhere, in the back of his fuzzy brain, he knew he had to alert the rescuers of his presence. Another minute, maybe, and he could muster up the energy. He gripped his wand more tightly.

Voices again. A female voice…one he recognized…

"Agate, this is William Johnson, a 6th year. He says Harry's in this car!"

Agate …. the only Agate Harry knew was an Auror he'd worked with when he'd first joined.

"Potter?" Agate's voice was concerned. "We've cleared the car, Tonks. No sign of him."

"He's here!" insisted a high-pitched voice that had to belong to Johnson. "In the passageway. He told me to _Evanesco_ the window."

"Harry!" It was Tonks.

"Tonks…" his voice was weak, scratchy. There was no way she could have heard him.

"You found him?" The new voice was breathless, worried. _Ron?_

Many voices at once now, combined with scuffling and movement in the compartment above him and to the right….the compartment Johnson had been in.

"Harry!"

He tried again. "Down here…"

He kept his eyes trained to the right and was both startled and immensely relieved when a head popped out into the passageway. His best friend hung upside down, his long hair hanging in his eyes.

"Hey Ron," he managed.

Ron pointed his wand toward Harry. A strong beam of light shot out from the end, acting like a Muggle flashlight. The beam illuminated Harry's face and he closed his eyes against the brightness.

"Merlin! Harry…don't move!"

Even with his pain he saw the humor in Ron's statement.

More scuffling, voices that intermingled so he couldn't pick out individual words.

He must have blacked out for a few minutes because when he opened his eyes again, someone was touching his cheek.

"Harry? Come on, Harry. Stay awake for me."

"Hey, Tonks," he managed.

"Can you move at all?" Her voice was laced with concern. She was shining her wand up and down his body while someone behind them continued to point a beam of light at them.

"Leg…"

A pause and a very sharp intake of breath.

"Ron" she called. Her voice was tense. "Get some towels."

"Gonna pull it out?" Harry asked. He tried to make his voice sound casual.

"Unless you want to spend the rest of your hols right here," she answered.

She took his hand and squeezed, then pushed his hair back out of his eyes. The touch of comfort felt good.

"What happened?" he managed.

"Don't know yet," she said.

"How bad?"

"About half the cars derailed. Lots of injuries but none too severe."

"How did you . . .?"

"Shhhh…."

Outside, now, he could hear more voices.

"Stay back! Gin! No! We'll have him out in a few minutes!"

Gin? Ginny was here? He moved his head, shifting his weight and groaning as his leg resisted. He felt hands against his shoulders, pushing him back.

"Tonks! Catch!"

Towels came flying at them.

"Harry, this is going to hurt like hell. Want me to…?"

"No." He wanted to be conscious. "Just do it."

She didn't hesitate. His leg erupted in a spasm of pain so intense that he screamed as she pulled out the chunk of metal lodged in it. He heard an answering cry from somewhere outside. "Harry!" He groaned as Tonks wrapped towels around the wound and tied them down tightly. Without preamble, she grabbed him around the middle and began inching them sideways toward the open compartment door to the right.

It took him a few moments to get his wits about him again, then he tried to help her, scooting along with her inch by agonizing inch.

Hands grabbed him a few minutes later and he found himself gazing at a clear, starry sky. He turned his head and slowly blinked his eyes, looking up at Ron's smudged face.

"Took you long enough to get those towels, mate," muttered Harry. He shivered slightly.

"Here, Harry," said another voice. Someone wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

"Bill," said Harry, noticing his old friend for the first time.

Bill smiled but it didn't make it to his eyes. "Let's lift him out of here, Ron." His voice was edgy, worried.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on fresh snow and there was commotion everywhere. But the first person he saw was Ginny. Ginny being held back away from the train by Mad Eye Moody. Ginny gesticulating frantically at Evan Sanders, Harry's boss at the Ministry of Magic. _Evan? _What was he doing here?

The commotion was beginning to confuse Harry. There were so many people—parents looking for their children and children running around frantically. "Uncle Harry!" screamed someone very close.

"He's fine, Harry," said the calm voice of Arthur Weasley. "Bill, round up the boys and Marie and take them to the Burrow."

"Right, Dad," answered Bill. He paused to bend down next to Harry. "You're going to be fine, Harry," he said, squeezing his shoulder.

"Harry!" He heard his name clearly through all the commotion. This time it was Ginny. She'd broken away from Evan and Mad Eye and was running toward him.

He wondered vaguely why she was here already, and how she knew Evan Sanders.

He tried to sit up as she approached but the effort was enormous and excruciatingly painful, so painful that he had to turn his head sideways to vomit. Ron managed to lift him semi-upright as he threw up.

"Just like old times," he heard Ron mutter as he retched in the new snow.

Ginny was now kneeling next to him. Harry tried to smile. She reached out and pushed the hair from his eyes, smiling through tears, ignoring the blood left on her hand from his head. He saw Ginny and Ron exchange an anxious look. Ron's eyes had traveled down to Harry's leg.

"Merlin, Harry…" he muttered.

Ginny pulled her gaze back to Harry's face and reached out again to wipe bloody hair out of his eyes. "Hold on Harry," she said softly. He realized then that his head was bleeding and that the moisture in his eyes must be blood.

She pulled out her wand and hesitated, then shot a look over at Evan Sanders. Evan looked briefly at the gathering Weasleys who were looking from Ginny back to him. Besides Ginny, Ron and Arthur, Fred and George had now appeared and were starting to crowd into the fray.

"Take him," said Evan.

Ginny acted immediately.

"Grab hold, Harry," she said, holding out her wand.

He stared at her. _No! _Even in his pain-fuddled brain, he knew what this meant. Ginny was holding out her _wand _to him. It was a shadow portkey, a one-way trip to the Auror's ward at St. Mungo's. He locked eyes with her, unbelieving.

"Ginny?"

She nodded once, very slightly.

Then, without saying another word, and staring into her eyes the entire time, he slowly reached up and touched her wand. As soon as his fingers made contact, the pair vanished in a colorful blur.

Arthur Weasley stared a moment at the spot where his daughter and surrogate son had been then turned slowly to face Evan. Evan met his eyes. Arthur knew what had just happened and was doing an admirable job of controlling himself.

"Auror's ward, then?" he asked. His voice, as hard as he tried to control it, did not sound quite natural. "St. Mungo's?"

Evan nodded and pulled out what looked like a galleon from his pocket. He consulted it then looked back up at Arthur.

"Password today is 'gillyweed,'" he said. He met Arthur's eyes again. "Listen, Arthur. She came willingly. Highly recommended. They're the best team we've had."

The rest of the Weasleys were staring at the two men. Ron's mouth was slightly open as his gaze went from one man to the other.

"How long . .?" asked Arthur.

"You know that's classified."

"Ahh. Since Paris then." Arthur nodded then turned back to his family. "I'm going to get your mother. We'll meet you at St. Mungo's. I'm sure Ginny will explain everything then." He nodded and with a soft _crack_ was gone.

"She's an Auror," said Ron, closing his mouth. "She's Harry's Shadow…"

"Shadow?" said George, confused. "What's a …?"

"Ron!" A gray-haired wizard, breathing hard, ran over. "Where's Harry?"

Ron moved his gaze from Evan Sanders to his old friend, Remus Lupin.

"He was injured, Remus. Ginny's just port-keyed out with him to St. Mungo's."

"Who took him?" asked Remus as he scanned the area. Tonks had joined the group, leaning tiredly against her husband.

"Ginny took him," said Ron, staring at Tonks while he said it, looking for a reaction that would tell him whether she knew that Ginny was an Auror.

"Ginny?" she said, clearly puzzled. "Evan, he should have an Auror with him. What if they sedate him and….?"

"Apparently, he does have an Auror with him," said Ron. "I wondered how she got here before I did when she wasn't even at the station when the news came in."

Remus suddenly put it all together.

"Ginny?" he said, his mouth dropping open.

Ron looked over at him. "She's been his shadow, Remus. None of us knew. Not even Dad. And certainly not Harry."

"Is this true, Evan?" asked Tonks.

He looked at her a moment before nodding his head.

"Password?" asked Tonks, grabbing Remus' hand.

"Gillyweed," answered Ron before Evan could get a word out. "I'll see you there."

Three closely spaced _cracks_ were heard then, leaving Evan facing a confused Fred and George Weasely and wondering what he was going to do without two of his best aurors.


	14. Chapter 14

"Harry? Harry….you can let go now….we're here." Ginny's voice was soft in his ears. Harry willed his fingers to release the wand and his hand dropped down to the soft mat they had landed on.

A healer had run into the arrival room and the auror on duty, who happened to be Kingsley Shacklebolt, an old friend from the Order of the Phoenix, arrived on his heels. The older auror skidded to a halt when he saw Harry.

"Potter!" he exclaimed.

Harry lifted his hand in a weak wave.

"Hey, Kingsley…"

But Kingsley had turned his attention to Ginny. Once he got over his shock at seeing the youngest Weasley in the auror-shadow triage room, he madly signalled her to leave. But Ginny shook her head at him, both sad and defiant. Harry vaguely wondered, behind an increasingly foggy brain, what was going on.

"Too late," she said as Kingsley came toward her, having decided to remove her forcibly before Harry recognized her. He obviously wasn't aware that she had given her identity away already. "He knows."

_What do I know?_ thought Harry. _Oh…Ginny…_

"She's my angel," he said and was surprised to hear his voice. Had he said that aloud? How could she be his angel? She lived in Paris.

Kingsley locked eyes with Ginny. This was hard. Really hard. He looked at the healer, who had already stripped off Harry's traveling cape and pants and given Harry a pain killer and a blood replenishing potion.

"We need a moment," he said to the healer. "Is he stable enough to leave him?"

The healer nodded. "Five minutes," he said as he stood and left the room. He had a very good idea of what was about to happen.

Kingsley watched him as he left. He turned to Ginny and took out his wand.

"No!" she said quickly, standing and taking a step toward him and drawing her own wand.

"Ginny," he ground out slowly. "I have to. I hate to, believe me. But it's my job."

"You can't! It won't help. You'll have to obliviate my whole family. They all know now. They saw me…saw us."

"I love her, you know," volunteered Harry. He had managed to sit up against a wall. He felt queasy and loopy, surprised again that he had said that out loud. That pain potion must have been very potent.

Both Ginny and Kingsley lowered their wands and turned toward him. Kingsley stared at him a moment as Harry smiled crookedly up at Ginny. The auror then turned back to Ginny as he tucked his wand back in his robes.

"Well, I wouldn't want him to forget that, now, would I?" he asked as he smiled at Ginny. The smile was still on his face as he walked out of the room to get the medic.

Many hours later, Harry Potter woke up to find himself, once again, in the hospital. He was always disoriented when he woke from unconsciousness, and this time was no exception.

"Where am I?" he muttered with a scratchy voice to no one in particular.

But someone in particular answered.

"St Mungo's, Harry."

Ginny smiled as Harry tried to push himself to a seated position in the bed, reaching blindly to where he thought his glasses ought to be.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" asked Ginny as she placed his glasses on his nose. Memories came flooding back and Harry felt panic rise, unbidden, in his chest.

"The train," he muttered. "Did everyone make it out? The children?"

"Everyone," said Ginny. "Only a dozen were injured badly enough to be hospitalized. Apparently, someone protected a good number of them with shield charms before the accident." She looked pointedly at Harry and continued softly. "Moody figures it saved the lives of the children in the Harrys' car..."

Harry was beginning to remember now. Bits and pieces were falling together. The shaking of the train, the screeching crash, the children calling out, the pain in his leg. The voices and cracks of wizards apparating. Ron and Tonks. Ginny…

"You brought me here," he said softly. He paused to consider this while Ginny stared at him calmly with her warm brown eyes.

Harry pressed his eyes closed, remembering. Ginny was standing with Evan Sanders. Ginny was holding out her wand, telling him to take hold of it. She was confronting Kingley Shacklebolt. His mind made the leap, the connection, all over again.

"It was a Shadow's portkey." Harry looked over at her almost imploringly, disbelieving what his mind was remembering.

She nodded slowly.

"No…." Harry shook his head, not believing, not wanting to believe.

"Harry…." She didn't state the obvious. She had brought him here by using her wand as a portkey. Her wand was tuned to his magical signature. When they both touched it at the same time, it portkeyed them both to the Auror's ward of St. Mungo's. Only Auror's Shadows were authorized to have and to use wand portkeys.

Harry had a sick feeling in his stomach. "Who else knows?"

"Until tonight, only Evan and I," she answered.

"Who knows now, then?" asked Harry, still not quite believing this new development. Ginny…_his _Ginny…..was an Auror. And not just _any_ Auror but his personal secret guard and backup. Covert agents like Ginny were officially known as Shadows but Aurors who they served referred to them as Angels.

"Dad, Ron, Fred and George…Remus and Tonks….Shacklebolt. Oh, and the rest of the family by now, I'm sure. They're all out in the waiting room."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

"Shacklebolt. I remember now. He should have obliviated me. He had his wand out. But you stopped him, and I . . ." He stopped and looked into her eyes, remembering how he had professed his love to her. "This isn't supposed to happen," he said at last, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"What isn't supposed to happen, Harry?" Ginny asked very softly, leaning in again to kiss him above his eye.

"You saved me," he finally said, his eyes still locked with hers, his voice not much above a whisper.

Ginny remained silent but took his hand in hers.

"And you saved me," she said.

"Not just today…you saved me….in Bulgaria. You knew…" His voice trailed off as Ginny sat quietly, still holding his hand and softly caressing it.

"The broom! That's why you have such a great broom…an auror's model. I wondered... And Brazil…Merlin...you could have been killed…And why you were always home when I was…_That's _ why you wanted to know if I had decided about staying at Hogwarts. You'd be out a job…"

"Harry!" Ginny's voice was firm and a little hurt. "I _want_ you to stay at Hogwarts."

Harry stared at her, surprised. "You do?"

She nodded slowly. "I want you to be safe, Harry. I _need_ you to be safe. That's why I joined up. But I wouldn't quit…_couldn't_ quit…not unless I knew you didn't need me behind you. So back in October…at the Halloween Ball…I just _couldn't_ start anything with you. As much as I wanted to be with you, I wanted you to be safe even more. I had to hold things up until you decided if you were going to stay at Hogwarts or go back to the Ministry."

Harry gazed at her as she spoke, watching her passion-filled eyes dance in the low light of the hospital room.

"I hadn't quite decided you know," he said, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I was hoping I'd be able to make a decision over the holidays."

Ginny looked up at him then, shaking her head.

"Harry, the decision is made now. This is your third critical injury. You'll get a desk job for two years if you go back to the Ministry now."

"Spoken like a true auror," he said, his eyes beginning to smile again.

"And if you think that influenced my decision to expose my position, you're wrong!" she said at once. "I didn't even think about it until Evan told me a little while ago."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes He felt a light-headed freedom that he hadn't known for many years—as if the fates had made the most difficult of decisions for him.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice was soft and warm, close to his ear.

"Gin?"

"You will marry me, won't you?"

He pulled on her arm and brought her down on the bed with him, holding her as tightly to him as he could given his bandaged head and leg.

"Of course I will," he answered. "I've always wanted to be a Weasley. Do the others know?"

"That I just proposed to you? I should think not!"

He laughed. "No. About us. Us in general…"

She smiled. "Mum's known for years," she said. "Now shut up and kiss me."

Back in the waiting room, Charlie Weasley sat shaking his head. He had just come into the room for the first time, having spent most of the night walking sections of the track between Hogsmeade and the accident site. He was cold and wet and hungry and frustrated by his lack of discoveries, and now his brothers were trying to get him to believe some cock and bull story about his sister being an Auror.

"OK, let me get this straight," said Charlie for the third time. "Ginny isn't a photographer. She's an Auror. An undercover, covert Auror."

"That's right," said George, also for the third time.

"And she's not a photographer," said Charlie.

"No, and she never lived in Paris," said Fred quite slowly and plainly. If he wasn't so tired, this might actually be fun.

"And Ginny is Harry's Shadow," said Charlie, shaking his head.

"The aurors call them 'Angels,'" said Ron helpfully.

"But Harry didn't know," added Charlie. He looked completely dazed.

"No, Harry didn't know. Well, he knew he had an Angel. Most of our top Aurors do. They stay out of sight but within range, ready to call for reinforcements and to come to the rescue if things get too intense. He just didn't know who it was." Arthur rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall. Five o'clock in the morning.

"And who went out and recruited Ginny?" asked Charlie. "They deliberately went out looking for someone to follow him into danger? And they picked our baby sister?"

Across the room, feigning sleep, Evan Sanders sighed. They kept coming back to that little fact. Better to end the speculation. Without opening his eyes he answered.

"OK. We recruited her. In fact, I visited her personally and made the proposal. She started training as soon as Harry was on his first assignment."

Everyone stared at the "sleeping" auror.

"Why?" asked George, suddenly. This was a new question and Evan opened his eyes at last.

"Why Ginny, you mean?" he asked.

"Yes, why Ginny. Why my daughter?" answered Arthur.

"She came highly recommended," answered Evan. "And she had all the qualities we were looking for—brains, great flyer, stealth, courage….and, well…."

Evan paused and shrugged his shoulders, at a loss at how to continue in front of this room full of Ginny's family. But Hermione saved him the trouble.

"She'd die for him, right? She'd put his welfare before her own."

Evan looked up at her in surprise.

"You, Mrs. Weasley, might be a great asset to our department…."

No one laughed. Indeed, the statement was as serious as the one preceding it. Silence filled the room for another minute.

"Any of us would, you know," said Ron at last. "Any of us here in the room would die for Harry."

Another awkward moment of silence passed before George spoke.

"This really is the third time Harry's been badly injured, then?"

Evan nodded.

"The third time since he became an auror, anyway," he said with a slight smile. "The first time was before he had Ginny. The second time was in Bulgaria." He stopped and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. "Ginny saved both Harry and his partner that time."

"Was Ginny supposed to watch him during the Quidditch tournament?" asked Ron suddenly. Evan smiled.

"No. That was totally unplanned. I think after all those years of following Harry, she just couldn't resist some real, out in the open teamwork for a change."

The door opened and a rumpled looking and flustered Minerva McGonagall came in.

"Good news! They've found the cause of the accident! Where is my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Minerva, have a seat, please," said Arthur Weasley, standing to give her a chair. Minerva dropped into it gratefully. "Harry's in recovery. Tell us, what happened?"

"The good thing is that it was truly an accident. The aurors found a nest of nifflers under the tracks. They'd dug a maze of tunnels so extensive that they'd collapsed several significant sections of track. They've probably been there for years."

"Nifflers," said Ron, shaking his head. "Nifflers could have killed Harry."

"A lot of things could have killed Harry," said Molly very quietly. "But they didn't. He is, and always will be, the Boy who Lived."

When Hermione pushed open the door to Harry's hospital room, she was surprised to find it quiet. Ginny was sitting on a comfortable looking chair next to the bed, and Harry was, it seemed, sleeping. Ginny looked up and smiled, motioning her friend over.

"When he's sleeping it's hard to believe the kind of life he's had," she whispered. "He looks so peaceful."

Hermione conjured herself a chair next to Ginny and sat down, draping her arm around her friend's shoulders.

"They finally convinced Charlie," she said after a moment of watching Harry's chest rise and fall.

Ginny nodded and continued to watch Harry. "Good. How did he take it?."

Hermione chuckled. "Better than your Mum, anyway."

Ginny smiled and shook her head. "She was a basket case. Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way."

"It's really hard to believe, Ginny," said Hermione. "It's like we don't even know you."

Ginny sighed. "Not really, Hermione. I'm the same Ginny you've always known. It's just good to not have this secret anymore. And it's good to know that Harry will be safe at Hogwarts from now on too. That he won't need me—or anyone—to back him up."

"What about you, Ginny?" asked Hermione quietly. "What will you do now?"

Ginny reached out and caressed Harry's face with the back of her hand. He stirred but didn't wake.

"Oh," she said at last. "I imagine we'd better get to work having babies pretty soon. I'm not getting any younger and you and Ron have left us a lot of catching up to do."

"You're serious, aren't you?" asked Hermione. Ginny had always bucked tradition and convention. Hearing her talking about starting a family, about giving up her career, was both alien and refreshing.

"You'll be my maid of honor, won't you?" asked Ginny. "We want to get married this summer, right after term ends."

Hermione hugged her friend tightly. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "But promise me one thing. If you have a boy….."

Ginny laughed and interrupted. "We won't name him Harry."

The friends hugged once more and Harry, the original Harry, smiled in his sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

EPILOGUE

"Molly, Harry and Ginny are here!"

Arthur Weasley wore a huge smile as he opened the door and scooped little Nellie up in his arms. James had pushed in as soon as the door opened and was heading for the kitchen to find his grandma. Last came Harry and Ginny, each carrying a sleeping baby.

"Happy Christmas!" exclaimed Molly Weasley, coming from the kitchen with James trailing behind her with a cookie.

"Happy Christmas, Mum," said Harry, allowing Molly to take the baby from him.

"Still so tiny," cooed Molly as she rocked the infant in her arms.

"She's only three weeks old, Mum," said Ginny. "She'll grow."

"So this is Lily then," said Molly. Ginny handed her the other baby and Molly settled into the old wooden rocker as Harry helped Ginny with her cloak and then settled with her on the divan in front of the fire.

"Where's everyone else?" asked Harry, noticing that the house was rather quiet for Christmas morning.

"You're the first to arrive," said Arthur. "Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts."

"I can't believe Sirius doesn't have red hair," said Molly as she gazed at the face of the second baby.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with messy black hair," protested Harry.

"Or messy red hair!" piped in James, crawling up on his dad's lap.

A roar of flames and a whoosh from the fireplace heralded the arrival of the Ron Weasley family and within an hour the house at Ottery St. Catchpole was overflowing with people once again.


End file.
